DC Rebirth: Vanishing Crisis
by Perry-Gray
Summary: Author's Note: First time writing Fan fiction, so let's how it goes. Story takes place in the DC Rebirth continuity just after the Justice League vs Suicide Squad event. Knowledge of other DC characters in the Rebirth universe do enhance the story, but aren't vital. Feel free to comment below, I am looking for warranted criticism or praise, so please share your thoughts with me.
1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note: If you like what you're reading, or maybe you don't, please leave a review below. If you're lost on story elements, character backgrounds, or even just think my writing style could use a few tweaks to make it better, let me know. If you really like "Vanishing Crisis", please Favorite to stay up to date, or PM me on any questions you might have. Thank you, and I hope you enjoy.**

Chapter One

He woke up drowsy and aching. His jaw hurt like he'd been hit by a professional heavyweight, and his insides felt like they'd just gone through the wash. That wasn't the worst of it, sadly. Between the blood seeping into his shirt from his stomach wound and hanging by chains over an occult pyre. Just another bloody day in the life of John Constantine.

"I swear this day was going well for me, " Constantine said his head wavering just over the flames.

"I guess you aren't as great as the whispers claimed you to be." John's captor was a large creature, with skin red as blood and a frame that would put any wide shouldered athlete to shame. His horns curled down across his jaw before they whisked outward. His eyes were threatening enough, pitch black, in a permanent squint of aggression, and hallowing to anyone inexperienced in the Dark Arts. Unfortunately for him, John was anything, but inexperienced. The worst part about this unquestionably powerful hell-fiend was that Constantine was at a huge disadvantage. Besides being completely at its mercy, Constantine didn't know this Demon's name.

In the magical world, a creature's name was a connection to its ethereal being. When acquired by forces that would do it wrong, it served as a huge weakness. A well learned magician or supernatural force could use a creature's name to wound it to its core, banish it, even bind its soul if the caster was strong enough. It was like Kryptonite, John thought. He could make the blue boy scout with the big S do whatever he wanted if he had enough of the stuff. Wouldn't solve his problem in the here and now though, would it.

"Yeah well, I'm just warming up. No pun intended," John smirked, still bleeding. He knew if he didn't take care of the cut soon, he'd pass out, but he also knew that if he stayed trapped in these chains, he'd die long before that. He'd just have to work through the pain. Nothing new.

"Always the hero, aren't you? The brave John Constantine, Master of the Dark Arts and official Justice League member. You must be so special."

"Wrong on both counts, mate. I'm far what you'd call a hero and the cape and tights type don't much take kindly to a man like me. Besides, if I were a real master of the Dark Arts, do you really think I'd be trapped in here with the likes of you? The Infernal equivalent of a mail delivery boy? Fat fucking chance."

"Imbecile," the Demon bellowed. "Do you not know who I am?! It was I who conquered the plains of Titus amidst the Hellscape Wars! It was I who stood victorious against the Infernal Tartarus before your kind had even crawl from the mud! I am a Gladiator of Hell itself and will stand to be insulted by an insect such as yourself!"

"Yeah yeah, that's all very impressive, but why the wait? Why the chains and blood mate? There any reason for the theatrics?"

"It is a ritual, petty dabbler of the Mystic Arts. Made especially for you."

"That right? Why's that now?"

"Because despite your best efforts to underwhelm me, I know your reputation. Taking your soul to Hell has been the bane of who've dared try. Never before has someone like you avoided our grasp for so long. You've made preparations, haven't you? Some relic or ward on your person to avoid your inevitable fate?"

"No mate, just been running on luck this whole time."

"Well then, it has run dry. The chains around you were crafted of a special metal. Any wards protecting you from my pyre have been absolved. The fire itself will burn your flesh away, despite any protections you've marked your skin with. It will be the purest death, one that will cleanse you permanently."

"Then my soul gets added to your stash as currency, aye? Not a bad plan mate, really read up on me didn't cha?"

"You and I are similar in that regard. We are always prepared, but not this time. This time I have you, and you are without time to save yourself."

"Why ain't I dead yet then, aye? Just like watching me bleed to death, is that it?"

"With every drop of blood your body pumps though you an into my flame, the higher it shall rise. Millimeter by millimeter it shall consume you, and it will be entirely your own doing. The very blood that gives you life will be your end." The Demon gargled a hideous laughter. John began to slowly shake his head side to side.

"Tsk tsk, is _was_ a good plan, mate. Was being the key there. But now you're shit outta luck."

"I beg your pardon?"

"Beg all you want mate, you've still lost this bout." The Demon cocked his enlarged skull to one side.

"I don't think you understand where you are right now."

"No, I don't think _you_ understand. You see you may have me chained and bloody, and about to burn myself to a crisp, but I've still got the edge." The flames were licking at Constantine's more unkempt hairs now. He curled his cut up stomach to avoid getting roasted, at the cost of great physical distress.

"You have NOTHING, John Constantine. You have lost."

"Sorry, but I have everything. I have your sodding name… _Hephareal_." The Demon squirmed in its own skin, its voice strained as a part of its very being seemed tortured.

"Foul Human! How dare you utter that-!"

"Say another word and I'll be sending you back home. Empty handed." Hephareal grunted a low grumble that seemed to shake Constantine's chains. His sharp claw-like toes gripped into the stone floor of whatever room they must have been in.

"What...What do you want?"

"Little more aware of the situation are we? Good. First unchain me and get me out of this sodding fire."

"What's stopping me just waiting you out?"

"The knowledge that the last thing I do before I pass will be banning you from _every_ plane of existence."

"You don't have that kind of magic in you. Not today anyway."

"Even if I was as drained as you thought, I've got enough still kicking to brand your name with a special little something of my own. Anyone with even the slightest ounce of mysticism in their blood will suddenly know your name and hate it with every bit the same hatred you hold for me. Think of it as a little spam email chain you can't delete no matter how hard you try. This little fire you've set up here and blood you took from me served as the conduit for this incantation of mine. I've been murmuring it to myself while you were gloating about yourself, which is where I got your name."

"Nonsense, I never told you my name!"

"Oh didn't you? 'Conqueror of Titus?' 'Slayer of the Infernal Jezebel?' May as well have handed me a sodding resume. Face it, mate. You've lost." The flames were making his scalp uncomfortably warm now, sweat dropping as fast as blood. Another thirty seconds and his hair would no doubt be ablaze. "The incantation goes into full effect upon my passing. You kill me here, now, or anywhere else, you become branded to every magical being in existence! You'll never be safe, always on the run, always being hunted. Am I really worth that much?!" Hephareal stroked his chin with some serious thought. "Choose soon mate, I'm prepared for my fate, are you?"

After what seemed like eternity, Hephareal concluded his analysis of his situation. With a snap of his fingers, the pyre was extinguished and the chains holding Constantine disappeared in a puff of smoke. John fell onto the ashen heap with an unceremonious crash.

"Well played, Constantine. But this is not the end." John held a hand at his stomach wound, a manageable thing if he called someone soon.

"Yeah, how's that?"

"Because all of Hell already knows _your_ name. If you think Humanity is something to be feared, imagine the whole of Demon-kind wanting nothing more than to take your precious Soul."

" _Hephareal,"_ John spun a distinct inflection into the name, and the Hellspawn erupted in a shower of embers and ash, banishing it back to its home realm.

"I don't have to imagine, mate." John pulled a cigarette from his coat pocket and lit it with a wisp of fire from his fingertips. "I live your nightmare every sodding day."

Constantine got up with a wince and an arm at his stomach, a purple glow emitting from his palm. "Nicked me good though, chief." His spell would keep the wound at bay, maybe putting a temporary end to the bleeding, but the pain was still irritating. It was far from healed, but it'd last him until he made it to a hospital. If nothing else, it was nice to have magic at his fingertips, to be tapped into the boundless world of the supernatural. He loved the void, or at least he was good at it, but far from invincible. He knew that if not for a single obscure article he'd read once or twice, he'd have been dead just there, but he didn't dwell on it."Time to get moving."

Even as he strode, the winds of magic began shifting, changing around him. Odd, this wasn't what recovering from an cursed incantation felt like, usually it like a supernatural hangover of sorts. This, this was something different. Something much bigger.

John walked out into the blinding sunlight of a London streetside. He could feel it though, something ominously powerful was doing...Something. Damnit, why couldn't he get a read on what this was. This feeling, he could sense it, the inherent magic of the world being channeled all around him. Whoever was doing this, was an actual master of the Dark Arts. And based on the scale, this spell was on a global level.

Were they trying to fight John? Where were they? Attacking another defender of the House of Mystery? What was this about to be? He had to get-!

As pedestrians brushed past him, John's gaze turned to the sky, as a green pulse swept through the clouds. He felt a tremendous rush of the arcane, a buzzing aftershock of the awesome might of something incredible. Amazingly, he was otherwise unphased. He looked around, realizing he'd thrown his hands up as an involuntary reaction. Everyone on the street just stared at him, as if he was the odd one for wanting to defend himself.

"You alright, buddy?"

"Didn't you see it?!"

"See what?" It was then, John's face turned from fear to annoyance.

"Bullocks. Nothing, sod off." John pushed past the man with an uncanny grace. Looking down at his stomach he realized his cut had closed. He'd been healed by that wave of magic. No, something that massive, it had to be more. More powerful, and completely invisible to those without magic.

"Fucking A. What the actual hell just happened?"


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter Two

The bar's air was wild and violent. He could feel it all around him, from the harsh lights, to the loud music, this establishment was not meant as a casual watering hole, at least for very long. Pool tables hugged the back wall as a heavy smoke clung to the air. There were no televisions or online lottery machines like there were in many higher class establishments. No, this place was a classic pub, wood walls, framed pictures of the owner with various hunting buddies and public figures, even a mounted buck head from a game hunt. Overall it was rotten, but Jason didn't much care. He much preferred the grime covered underworld to the posh and gaudy upper class. He knew all about that life too, after all he'd spent half of his childhood in a mansion. From Crime Alley to Wayne Manor and back again, how the times changed.

"Hey buddy, you gonna order something?" the barkeep grunted. "Or you just gonna loiter like a bum?" Jason shot him a not so nice look.

"Just keeping the seat warm." The two locked eyes, challenging one another, the tender stretching his face into a scowl, unknowingly puffing his beard forward. "Problem?"

"Paying customers get seats, boy. You wanna warm my seats, you gotta pay for dat right."

"He bothering you Pops!?" A large man, clearly a regular at the local gym, strode over from the pool tables, his buddies right behind him. Jason saw his tank was easily one size too tight, trying his best to show off his bulging arms and chest. He was standing uncomfortably close to Jason now, who was not quite hidden, but covered under his brown leather jacket, arms crossed on the counter. "You bothering my old man, bud?"

Jason didn't even give him a glance, staying quiet.

"Hey pal, I'm talking to you!"

Still nothing, but in his head Jason hoped the bartender's son would do what he looked like he was about to. Sure enough, Jason's deductions were accurate as ever.

The muscled man grabbed Jason by the collar, pulling him out of his chair and bringing them eye to eye. Instinctually, Jason threw his forehead into the thugs nose with a loud crack. He was released as the other man stumbled backwards,his buddies catching him as blood ran out of his nose.

"Oh now you're gonna get it, punk!" Jason was significantly weaker looking than the smallest of these athletes, but he hardly considered any of them an actual challenge. He hadn't been looking for a fight, but unlike any "hero" on the news, he wasn't going to back own from one given the chance, especially to losers like these.

Jason stood, eyeing each of them as they got ready to jump him. Smoothly and without looking, Jason spoke.

"Get me a beer, and a first aid kit. Your boys are about to it." The first of the thugs came from behind the bloodied one, lunging a punch at Jason. Compared to what he'd seen before, it was like the fist was coming at him in slow motion.

Thug number two found himself in the air a second later, having been vaulted over Jason's shoulder and into the following wall. Framed pictures fell to the floor as the wood splintered.

Thug number three came immediately after, throwing a couple quick jabs, something he must've seen on the most recent MMA event to be televised. It was sloppy, and Jason took advantage, swatting them away, and countering by applying an elbow right behind his neck, knocking him to the floor.

Thug number four pulled a switchblade out, a smarter move compared to his friends, but still stupid all things considered. Jason took a cautious step back, goading the fool to lunge forward. As he did, Jason twisted his wrist, took the knife, and stabbed it into the countertop. He then took the thug's head by the neck and slammed it into the hilt of the blade like driving a nail down with a hammer. Suffice to say, he too went to the floor.

That just left tank top guy with the bloody nose. Jason squared up to fight him again, gloved fists in a kickboxing stance. The thug grabbed a bottle from behind the counter and smashed the side of it, making his own jagged weapon.

"That was my beer," Jason replied, waiting for the attack. As the original muscle man lurched forward, there was a soft whooshing noise in the air, just before the bottle shattered in his hand.

"Fuck!" Bits of glass sprayed to the floor and into his hand. A large metal baton flew through the air like a spear, hitting the man just below his cheek, sending him toppling to the floor to join his friends. The baton clattered to the floor, as Jason looked to the bar entrance to see who he'd known had thrown it.

"You're late," Jason said to the costumed hero Nightwing. Although he just knew him as his real name. Dick Grayson. "Want a drink? Tender said it was on the house." Jason reached over the counter, the bartender long gone, grabbing two more bottles.

"Jason, you can't just trash every bar in Bludhaven when you come to visit." Nightwing sat down beside him, the blue and black suit seriously clashing with the warm bar around them. Jason popped the top off of his bottle with the makeshift "batarang" Nightwing had used to smash the thugs bottle in the first place. It handed landed in the counter, almost like a throwing knife.

"Y'know what I love about your 'batarangs'. No little ears. Was always so annoying shaving little pieces of metal to have ears. Didn't serve a damn purpose."

"They aren't batarangs, Jason."

"That's right, since you're solo I guess I shouldn't call them that. Yet again, 'Nightarangs' just don't have the same ring to it."

"They're just shurikens."

"Right, well whatever." Jason took a sip of his beer. "Oh and by the way I didn't **visit** this place. You invited me to your own city, which is something you never do, so what's up?" For as immature as Jason liked to act, and as high and mighty as he saw Dick as, the two had an interesting bond. While technically unrelated, and having never lived together, the saw each other as brothers in a weird way. After all, when The Batman raises you as a crime fighting boy wonder, you learn quick that not a lot of other orphans can relate to that. They'd each gone their own ways in their crime fighting career, although in Jason's case, it hadn't been by choice. Now they were each their own man, Dick had become Nightwing, the vigilant protector of Bludhaven, and Jason had become...Well, Jason had become something else. "Is it a case?"

"Well, yes and no." Dick clearly didn't want to have this conversation, but it wasn't out of pride, Jason could see that much. He was being strangely uncomfortable, it was all in his microexpressions.

"Why haven't you asked the Titans for help? I'm sure Roy or Wally could-"

"This is a little more personal than the Titans." Jason's mouth opened at his realization. He nodded, uncapping another bottle.

"Oh I see...The Dark Knight needs to assemble his 'family'. Needs his own private army to help clean up the streets while he, what? Goes off to fight some big bad in Metropolis or Central City? Gets beamed up to that space station the Justice League has? Well no thanks, if he wants me to clean up Gotham, then he can come ask me himself. I'm not exactly hiding. And by the way, since when did **we** become his clean up crew. It's like he just thinks he can pull us out of whatever we're doing because his mission is more important? Y'know I was tailing Black Mask's human trafficking operation for-"

"Jason...Bruce is gone." There was a pause, as Jason's heart skipped a beat.

"Gone?! What do you mean gone?"

"He and the League were doing what they do best and... and then they all just vanished. There's no visual on anything, cameras, phones, nothing. We don't even know who it was they were after. All we have are the communication recordings Cyborg left behind. Real time recordings of every mission, even this one. They were sent back to the Watchtower after the audio cut, and after a day or so, they were automatically sent to me as a security precaution. No one, not even the League knew it, but Batman made sure I…. I would be the first person to get the report if the League failed. Not the Titans, just me."

"Well...I mean… You were the first I guess. The first of us "sidekicks". You told the Titans yet?"

"Jason, I haven't even told Damian. How am I supposed to tell this kid...His kid, that he'll never see his father again. How do you do that?" Jason put a hand on Dick's shoulder.

"The same way he would have. Tell him that it's going to get better. And the people responsible are going to pay." Both Dick and Jason took a long sip from their drinks.

"How bout Tim, you at least told him?"

"I thought I'd tell you first. Tim may have been just after you, but he's got Cassie and well… I think he wants to get out of the crime fighting game."

"So it's just you and I who know."

" And Alfred."

"Gotcha…" The two of them for silent for another moment. It was eerie, they both knew where the conversation was about to go, but neither wanted to admit it. Eventually, Dick decided to get it over with.

"Gotham can't know there isn't a Batman. It's been three days now, and I think they're starting to notice. Penguin has been moving his men, Two- Face is right on his tail and I can only imagine what **He** is planning to lure Batman out."

"You're not suggesting we?"

"We have to."

"I'm no super-"

"You were though, and I'm not saying it'd be forever. Just until we find someone who can do it just as good." Jason threw his beer against the back wall.

"No one was as good as he was! He made damn sure of that from the beginning!"

"Jason, I need-"

"No! What you need is your pals in the Titans to go up in the sky and play at being real Leaguers until either the world changes, or God forbid, you do."

"What's that supposed to mean?" The two were standing now, the room suddenly much warmer for the both of them.

"It means your whole life you've been waiting for this haven't you? The perfect moment for you to take the Bat Mantle, and be just like dad!"

"Jason...I never wanted that." Jason swung his arms out wide, his boots stepping over bodies and onto glass.

"Oh sure, that's why you went off on your own in a black and blue suit to protect your own crime infested city. Wake up, Grayson! We've always been in his shadow, and now that he's gone, we're scrambling at what to do next. It's just like him to keep the real answers just out of reach."

"Did...Did you ever want the be The Batman, Jason?" He took a breath, looking back to his red helmet at the side of the bar counter.

"I did...Once."

"What changed?" Jason took his helmet, looking at it's glassy eye holes. He put it on, donning the signature accessory of who he truly was, The Red Hood.

"I died."


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter Three

"When's dad coming home, mom?"

"Soon, Jonathan, very soon."

"You think he's up in space?"

"I think he might be," Lois Lane lied. "Go play out back, okay? I'll get you when dinner's ready."

"Okay mom." Off he went, her little boy scout in ripped jeans, running through the house with his arms out wide, pretending to be a plane. He wanted to fly someday, to be just like his father.A tear fell down Lois's cheek at the thought. His Father. Clark Kent. Superman.

The two had gotten married over a decade ago, and now they lived on a farm with their beautiful son, who dreamed of nothing more than becoming just like his father. He'd slowly learned he wasn't like normal kids over the years, discovering his powers for the first time. Clark had taught him to use them responsibly, and only if he couldn't help it. There were so few reasons to actually fight, according to her husband, but he also knew that sometimes violence was unavoidable. She loved that tender heart of his, but more than anything she wanted him home.

It had been four days since he'd gotten a call from the League. Something was happening, and it looked like a job for Superman. Just like every other time the League had called before, he'd smiled at her and told her he'd be back soon. And almost every time he'd meant it. Almost. Only two times had he ever lied to her, and the first time he'd died.

The creature's name was Doomsday, a brutish nightmare unlike anything Lois had ever seen before. She'd been up close to the action, thinking it was nothing more than just another Villain of the Week, until she saw it that was. Seeing her chopper fly overhead, the grey behemoth had lunged sixty stories to rip into their vehicle. It's enormous hands had reached for her with a radiating ferocity. She'd never been more afraid, until Superman had arrived. He'd saved her, and her photographer Jimmy Olsen, but then he went back to fight it. Again and again he wailed on it, and again and again he was beaten, bruised and cut. By the end, he was a bloody mess, with a bitter determination to save the people. To keep everyone safe. He'd died that night for those beliefs, killing Doomsday in the process.

That was the first time he'd left her without warning. Right now was the second. She was right to be afraid for his safety.

"Please Clark. Come home." Another tear as she turned to go back inside. The sun began to set over their farm, that night marking the fourth time in a row she'd had to put Jon to bed by herself. The fourth time in a row she'd had to stay up all night wondering if he'd ever come back. The fourth time in a row she'd lost too much sleep to consider it a rest. And the fourth time in a row she'd gone to work the next morning like nothing happening. Nothing at all. The noise and hustle of her work was the one place that Lois could just forget her problems and just focus. Tune the world out and be the workaholic she knew she was. She was a reporter long before she'd ever met Superman after all.

As the Planet's head reporter, Lois occasionally got her pick on the stories she got to cover and today was one of those days. Sports wasn't very eventful this week, and Lifestyle articles never really meshed with her writing style. Business, Politics, those were her bread and butter, those and an occasional dip into the Editorial pool. It was funny though, even though she devoted so much of her time to in depth analysis articles and investigative journalism, she'd received both her Pulitzer Awards for Editorials. Apparently her Metropolis had loved to hear what she thought on certain events or remarkable persons. Her Metropolis.

It was hard to ignore this wasn't her Metropolis anymore. She and Clark had moved here from another Earth just before Jon had been born. It didn't make much sense to her, but Clark had explained it to her as a parallel worlds theory, a thought that every decision made creates an alternate universe where the choice you didn't make occurs. Say you had the choice between stopping at a red light, or driving through it. According to this theory, a new parallel world would be created having Lois run the light if she chose to stop or vice versa. To her it seemed like there would be an infinite number of universes and Earths, but Clark had told her that there were only 52. When pressed about this, he told her he was pretty sure with a sort of half wink. It made her head spin, but never the less her old Earth was gone and the two had made a new life on this one, raising Jon and writing articles on events or persons of interest.

Speaking of which, Lois began writing an e-mail to LexCorp's head of PR. If she was going to be doing any substantial reporting, she'd have to put her mind at ease about this Earth's Lex Luthor. So far he'd appeared much more philanthropic than the one she was used to. He used his wealth to help crisis across the world, donated his time at shelters, and had even built an enhanced battle suit to fight off some sort of threat several years back. What it was she had no idea, only that this world's Justice League had been missing in action at the time. Just like they were-

No, she wasn't going to do this. Not here. Lois Lane was **not** going to cry at the Daily Planet. The League was going to come back. He was going to come back. They always did. She just had to focus on an article about Lex's charity work, look through his publically released finances. It seemed like he had nothing to hide, but was all of this an act or had the deranged billionaire really turned over a new leaf? Was Lex Luthor really changing the world for the better?

"Lois!"It was Perry White,her Editor-in-Chief. "My office. Now!" She closed the door behind her, recognizing the tone in his voice.

"Yeah chief," she said, all brash business.

"Look...I wanted to show you first what we're sending out tomorrow. It's going to be front page stuff so...Just take a look." He slid the sample copy of tomorrow's front page, and a chill ran down her spine. It was a head-line she'd seen before, but nearly shrieked at it all the same. It was a validation that her problem was now the world's problem. "I wanted you to see it first, Lo."

"Chief I've got-"

"Just look." There, plain as day were three simple words that struck her to her core. She fell into his arms, weeping for the second time at the Daily Planet since the day she'd seen Doomsday. The headline simply read: " **Where is Superman?"**


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter Four

Amanda Waller stood in her private hub of information, surrounded by analysts and monitors. Her eyes were narrowed at the view through the main window in front of her, the interior of Belle Reve Penitentiary. It was a normal prison, however. No, nothing she did ever was. This was a United States sanctioned prison for super criminals, ones the world would rather just not think about. Every cell was a translucent container that was constantly under surveillance, and for good reason. They were the worst of the worst, but Amanda had molded them into something more, with a little help from the bombs she'd implanted in their necks. Begrudgingly, they'd become her own private army, a unit of highly specialized, expendable, and most importantly condemnable supers.

They were Task Force X, her Suicide Squad.

She did a headcount of all of them, as she had so many times before. It was something of a ritual to her, every member filling in a certain strength the team would need for any given mission. Not a singular one of them was easy to obtain, and altogether the team itself had come at great personal cost to her, but ultimately they'd been worth it. At times as stressful as these, it was helpful to remember what she'd accomplished by bagging this team.

Floyd Lawton, Deadshot. World's Greatest Marksman and Second Deadliest Assassin. Captured by the Batman after a Penguin gang bust in Gotham city. Wanted for over eighty- five counts of first degree murder. Was slated for the lethal injection at Blackgate before Waller got her hands on him. Took from right under the Batman's nose, even forged some papers and footage showing Lawton take his deadly dose. Only one way to make those convincing enough to fool the World's Greatest Detective. Now he was hers, the man who never missed.

Waylon Jones, Killer Croc. The reason America's afraid to see what dwells in their sewers. Can swim up to 40 mph, durable scaled skin condition and jaw strength powerful enough to rip steel. Captured in Bludhaven by Batman's golden child, Nightwing. Wanted for thirteen counts of second degree murder. Waller intercepted him on his way back to Arkham, papers and documents all filed beforehand. Perfectly legal handoff, precisely framed out of public eye.

June Moone, The Enchantress. The ancient spirit of a witch from an age long passed, possessing itself occasionally within the body of an innocent graphic designer. Amanda would have felt remorse for the poor girl, if her other half was less of a danger to the free world than the facts suggested. Capable of mystic arts and arcane volleys, the limit of The Enchantress's powers are not yet known. Bagged her from her own home one night in her sleep. Didn't want to provoke a fight in a suburban zone. To her credit, there hadn't been an incident with June yet, but Waller couldn't risk that to last forever.

Digger Harkness, Captain Boomerang. A third rate villain to a first rate hero like The Flash. It was hard to believe Boomer's criminal career had lasted as long as it had, being wanted for forty five counts burglaries, thirteen counts aggravated assaults, and apparently even two counts of public urination. While egotistical and prone to emotional outbursts, Boomer somehow possess a mind capable of lateral thinking. He always somehow pulls out some contraption or witty way to escape even the deadliest scenarios in order to add more fame to his name. The Flash brought him to Iron Heights after an encounter with his former team, The Rogues, went south. Given the choice, she would have taken Captain Cold, a man with a far superior tactical mind, but thought better of it. Taking Captain Cold out of Central City would be like taking The Joker out of Gotham, it would attract too much unwanted attention. Speaking of which…

Dr. Harleen Quinzel, Harley Quinn. A psychologist at Arkham that had been transformed into another one of **his** puppets. He'd seduced her, transformed her, and made her into the clown princess of Gotham City. Immune to toxins and poisons, as well as an exceptional acrobat and thief, Harley Quinn was brought onto the team for one reason above all others. Morale. If the team saw someone like her amongst them, a pretty frame with a quirky, albeit crazy attitude of 'girl next door', they'd subconsciously be more inclined to participate in the mission. It was just human behavior. All the boys, whether they knew it or not, would try to impress her, and Miss Moore would be acting as the Enchantress, a spirit which always acted as its best. Taking her from Arkham was an interesting case originally. It seemed some very generous benefactor was paying for psychological treatment for her, trauma therapy far beyond anything anyone at Arkham was receiving. Despite her six counts of third degree murder, two counts of second degree murder, and nineteen counts of aggravated assault, it looked like Miss Quinzel was on the path to recovery. Unfortunately for her, recovery wasn't part of Waller's plan.

That was the head count of every super criminal they had left of Task Force X. There had been others, but their talents had since been replaced. King Shark had died due to disobeying a direct order, Slipknot had attempted an escape, Parasite had behaved very poorly during his incarceration, killing three guards, leading to his current catatonic state, and Killer Frost had been handed over to Batman for some sort of second string Justice League.

Yes, the Justice League. Those super powered champions of justice and peace. They'd been the world's saviors through countless crises and disasters. Villain after villain, criminal after criminal, relief effort after relief effort, their abilities were solemnly awesome and righteous, their power unquestioned. But Amanda knew. Knew that power that went unquestioned eventually answered itself. She knew that one day the League would turn on the world, and on that day she would need a response. The world would need one, and her Task Force X was that last line of defense. Did she truly believe that the likes of Killer Croc and Harley Quinn could compare with the might of Wonder Woman? The resolve of the two Green Lanterns that had recently joined the League? Even Superman on his own? Of course not. Task Force X was a last resort that would only be used as such, but now it seemed that would hardly be necessary. The Justice League was missing in action, after all.

Under normal circumstances, Waller would have felt cautious of whatever threat had downed any individual Leaguer, but this uncertainty wasn't giving her pause. It was giving her panic, an anxiety the likes of which she hadn't felt since her most recent encounter with known telepathic manipulator Maxwell Lord.

It wasn't just that the League was missing, it's that there was no trace left of them. No forensic evidence, no last stand, not even a vague message from Batman as warning. Just a puff of smoke without a gun to trace it back to. There was a hole on Amanda's mental chess board now, and she knew this vacancy would only create a power vacuum. Whoever had this power, to delete people and remain untraceable, who was to say they wouldn't attack her. If not even The Batman was prepared for this, where was her insurance she would not be next. The two had had a respectful rivalry of intelligence and clandestine activities towards one another. The man could use his fists and interrogation to some information, but her organization was influential enough to get things done at an even rate. Often times they'd even share intel on joint missions. They could rely on each other when the world was in danger, and there was no one else on the League who was his equal. And now they were all gone.

"Ma'am." Colonel Rick Flag stood behind her, arms crossed behind his back in his military uniform. He was an ex-Navy Seal, obedient, and most importantly her ambassador to the team. He'd interact with them on a personal level, go into combat with them, lead them through the most dangerous war zones known to man with minimal casualties. He was her voice to the team while she stayed here at Belle Reve, analyzing reports as the came to her in real time,with also managing the several other departments this facility ran.

"Flag, where is Katana?"

"Shore leave ma'am. Left a week ago, haven't heard since." Interesting, the League had disappeared just five days ago according to her reports.

"Any regular communications back?"

"None, not even the required 48 hour check in. Think something's wrong?"

"Possibly," she pondered, monitors flickering sparse lights across her face in the otherwise dark room. "Have you heard anything from General Eiling lately about her pet science project?"

"Captain Atom? No, ma'am. And usually he doesn't shut up about him. We spoke just three days ago and he didn't make any mention of him, why? What're you thinking, that those two are connected?"

"I'm thinking that both those disappearances along with the absence of the Justice League is far from coincidence." She squinted down on her five inmates. They needed to figure out what was going on, and they needed to figure it out fast.

"Get the Squad ready. Their about to go hunting."

"What for ma'am?"

"Not a what, Colonel. A who. With the absence of the World's Greatest Detective, there's only one other man I know who could help us figure out what happened to the League. I'll send you the briefing on your way off base." Flag saluted and went to make his way out.

"Flag."

"Yes, ma'am," he turned.

"He won't come with us willingly. Be prepared to use deadly force as necessary."


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter Five

[/WATCHTOWER COMMUNICATION SYSTEMS REBOOTING…../]

[/287 AUDIO DIARIES AND 151 LIVE MISSION LOGS FOUND /]

[RECALLING RECENT FILES…]

[FILTERING…][MISSION LOGS ONLY]

[FILTERING…][MISSION LOGS AFTER JAN 1ST 2017]

[FILTERING…][MISSION LOGS AFTER Maxwell Lord EVENT]

[FILTERING…][MISSIONS LOGS WITHIN 1 WEEK]

[FILES FOUND][1 LIVE MISSION LOG FOUND]

[/WARNING/WARNING/WARNING/WARNING/WARNING/WARNING/WARNING/]

[FURTHER USE OF THESE FILES REQUIRES **JUSTICE LEAGUE** CLEARANCE OF ALPHA LEVEL]

[NON-LEAGUE MEMBERS ARE PROHIBITED FROM ACCESSING THESE FILES UNDER THREAT OF SECURITY DEFENSE PROTOCOLS]

[/SCANNING.../]

[ACCESS GRANTED]

[GREETINGS {REDACTED}]

[{SYSTEM ERROR/ UNRECOGNIZED SIGNATURE}]

[{NEW INPUT DETECTED/cvlbni17863HVLDkbilukv}]

[{...}]

[{...}]

{SYSTEM RECOVERY COMPLETED}

{WELCOME " _Mr. S_ "}

{WATCHTOWER FILES NOW TRANSFERRING TO ALL UNCORRUPTED DATA TO OFF-SITE LOCATION}

{ACCESSING LIVE MISSION LOG 00151}

{MISSION 00151 LOCATED 37.1512o N 88.7320o W.}{Metropolis/ Centennial Park}

{CURRENT MEMBERS AS OF RECORDING: Superman (01A);Batman (02A);

Wonder Woman (03A);Flash (04A); Aquaman (05A); Cyborg (06A); Jessica Cruz [Green Lantern] (07A); Simon Baz [Green Lantern] (08A)}

{FULL TEAM ON SITE AS OF RECORDING}

{RECORDING LASTS FROM 13:16:46 TO 13:21:03 ON 02/03/17}

02A: Everyone check.

01A: Check.

02A: Check.

03A: Check.

04A: Check.

05A: Check.

06A: Check.

07A: Oh, Check.

08A: Check.

02A: Good. Everyone in position?

06A: Everyone's in place. Flash, you're up.

04A: On it. I'll (unintelligible) done real quick.

08A: Problems?

03A: He's bolting! I'm going in.

02A: Negative, stay focused on the clear and present. Diana?

03A: On it.

06A: Scans show Asset should be in the Auto repair show across the-

04A: Found it. Batman?

02A: Approach cautiously.

08A: Where do you want us, Bats?

02A: Stay in the skies. I want an update as soon as anything shows up?

08A: Oh, you expecting someone?

02A: Focus, Baz. Diana, update?

03A: (unintelligible static)

02A: Diana? (no response) Superman I need you-

01A: Already on it.

02A: Arthur, I want you at Flashes location. The two of you need to figure out exactly what we're dealing with. I want both scientific and mystical explanations for the readings I'm getting. Lanterns?

07A: Yes?

02A: I need a shell around that building. If this goes south, we need to make sure the blast is contained.

08A: On it.

01A: We got a problem. I found Wonder Woman's comlink. No sign of either of them, even with my supervision.

06A: Another problem.

02A: It can wait, Aquaman, Lanterns, are you in position?

05A: Ready.

08A: Here.

02A: The start your analysis. Cyborg?

06A: Several Boom Tubes just opened up. Signatures coming from outside the known galaxy.

02A: You and I will hold them off, the four of you complete the mission.

01A: I'll swing back to-(unintelligible).

07A: S-Superman? (energy weapons fire off)

06A: Taking fire! (inaudible)- Batman we need (inaudible)!

02A: Working on it. (debris crashes as the energy volleys continue)

08A: I'm going to help them.

02A: No! We lose the item we lose the mission. We can't risk it. As soon as it's stable I want Flash to take it to S.T.A.R. Labs

08A: You guys are in trouble, I'm not going to just sit here and-

07A: Simon, look!

05A: It's losing stability, Batman? (low humming audible, progressively growing louder)

02A: Can you-(grunts, as an energy blast hits near a comlink, causing a second of audio feedback.)

08A: I'm on my way!

07A: Simon I need you're help! (humming reaches a high pitch and remains there)

04A: It's unstable! We have to create a safe distance to-

06A: Too late! (Grunts) Batman's down. Perimeter's been breached!

08A: I'm on them! (more energy blasts)

05A: It's going critical!

07A: Simon, get back here, we need-

(A huge crash audio feedback is received from all remaining comlinks, and the next 16 seconds are filled with static)

{TRANSFER OF ALL AUDIO DIARIES AND LIVE MISSION LOGS TO OFF-SITE LOCATION IS COMPLETE}

{DELETE CURRENT FILE/ ACCESS GRANTED}

{LIVE MISSION LOG 00151 DELETED}

{WARNING: 2 EXTERNAL COPIES OF LIVE MISSION LOG 151 EXIST OFF-SITE}

{LOCATIONS OF HARD-COPIES OF [LML 151] INCLUDE " _Mr. S"_ OFF SITE LOCATION AND 40.7541o N 73.9611o W} {Island of Manhattan/ "Titan's Tower"}

{SYSTEM SEARCHING…./}

{01011000}

{OVERRIDE ACCEPTED}

{LML 151 SENT TO 01B/ "Nightwing"}

{ERASE ALL DATA?}

{WARNING/ THIS PROCEDURE CANNOT BE UNDONE}

{01011000}

(OVERRIDE ACCEPTED}

{TERMINATE SYSTEM?}

{WARNING/THIS WILL RESULT IN A COMPLETE SYSTEMS FAILURE. WATCHTOWER WILL NO LONGER BE FUNCTIONAL IF SYSTEM IS TERMINATED}

{INPUT EMERGENCY OVERRIDE CODE…}

{/pennyworth/}

{WATCHTOWER SYSTEMS SHUTTING DOWN}

Stepping away from the monitor, they pulled out a phone and hit the number. It was time to make that inevitable call.

"Hey. You were right. He sent it to the Boy…...No no, I can handle him…...They're just children…...I won't… See you in Manhattan then." They ended their call, dropped their phone to the floor, and crushed it with their boot heel.

"Next stop Manhattan."


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter Six

Roy Harper couldn't have been more content. He had a six pack fresh from the fridge,a clear schedule, and just enough time to relax with some online shooter. He sat in the main living room of Titans Tower after hooking up his gaming system to their 104 inch monitor, usually reserved for mission briefings. Their sound system was one of the best in the world, used primarily for audio recording or video deduction purposes, but Roy knew a little virtual entertainment was just as useful a use. It was his system too, after all he was a Titan too. Arsenal, the Red Archer and former apprentice of Green Arrow.

Roy snapped open a can and took a sip, relishing his solitude. Sure, he loved the Titans, they were his family, but these moments of peace and quiet were some of his favorites. When he wasn't firing arrows at giant robots, or learning the finer mechanics of Atlantean sciences, Roy knew resting was always essential to staying loose. Maybe that had been something he'd picked up from Oliver Queen, his eccentric mentor. Who knew for sure? Didn't matter anyway, he got by and even if he did dip occasionally he had a team to support him. The sound system clicked on as a rush of simulated explosions and gunfire broke out. Roy grinned behind his red trimmed shades, turning his trucker's cap backwards. He clicked onto matchmaking and waited, trying to remember where all his team members had split off to.

Let's see, Wally West- The New Flash- had gone off to Central City to visit his cousin or something. Was that kid's name also Wally too? Must've been family name. Garth- Tempest- was teaching some sort of Atlantean martial arts class at the local precinct as "a way of slowly bridging the gap between two worlds".

"Landing in drop zone in 30 secs, get ready troops," his games drill sergeant barked at him, which he knew was totally inaccurate. Man, Donna would be pissed if she saw this kind of military tactic from real warriors, all eight troops scrambling at once toward the enemy all on their own. Gosh, where was Donna?

"Headshot," the game congratulated him. "First blood, good job soldier." Donna...Where was-Oh that's right, she'd gone to do a mid-day patrol of the city. So, in essence she was actually doing her job while Roy was sitting at home.

"Headshot. That's a 10 man killstreak, good job soldier!" He knew he should probably be out there with her, but he knew Lilith had her back. The two were really good friends.

Lilith Clay- Omen- was a psychic and a damn good one at that. Mind reading, psychic blasts, the usual mental freakiness. She used to scare Roy in all honesty, but it didn't take long for him to realize what a sweetheart she actually was. With her and Donna on patrol, it'd have to be some sort of real big problem if they ever called in for help.

"Headshot. That's a 25 man killstreak. You're UNSTOPPABLE!" Hell, if things ever got that bad, they'd call in their good old part-time leader. The first Robin himself, Nightwing, or as the team knew him, Dick Grayson. Dick's partnership with the team wasn't part time due out of negligence of the team, far from it in fact. He did more for the team's dynamics together in the weeks he was here than in the month or two he'd be off in Bludhaven. He'd put them through training programs not even Donna could keep up with on her own, forcing the team to band together, and partner their strengths together. He was never cruel though, always a good head on his shoulders. He had a certain air about him. When he talked, people listened and respected him, but also admired his company. He was this sort of free spirit that sometimes even Roy forgot that he'd been taught by Batman.

"Game Over. Congratulations soldier, KDR 49/0. That's incredible!"

"Eh, could've been an Epic," Roy casually responded to his game. "Let's try again."

"Mind if I join in?" Roy almost jumped at the surprise, but immediately calmed when he realized who it was.

"Dick! I thought you were due back for another week." Nightwing smiled with a shrug. He plopped over the back of the couch, taking a seat right next to Roy.

"Thought I'd come back early. Things in Bluhaven are a little-"

"Exotic?"

"I was gonna say quiet." Roy set up a competitive game for just the two of them.

"That so? What, you run out of villains and gang bosses?"

"It's not like that. Everyone is still there, but I think their waiting." Dick was hesitant. He wasn't telling Roy something.

"Headshot. Red team winning 1-0."

"What's up? You got something and brooding like he does doesn't suit you," Roy responded, his attention still partially on the game.

"I...It's hard to say outloud."

"Come on, what's got you stammering? It another girl? That Defacer girl?"

"No, she's...She's fine. Just fine…" Roy could tell Dick was trying to hide his discomfort at the situation. It wasn't girl problems. No, this was serious. Not nerves, just... Pain. Roy paused the game, turning to face his friend.

"What's going on man?" Dick took a heavy breath.

"You know those reports about the Justice League?"

"That they're missing? Figured that was just tabloids or they were on a big intergalactic mission or something."

"Well...It's true. They're all gone. Not dead, as far as I can tell. Just...Missing." A wave of something uncomfortable hit Roy like a truck.

"You've got a plan then, right? To get them back or something?" Dick shook his head slowly.

"I don't even know where they went, much less how to bring them back. They've been gone almost a week and I've been trying to get a grip on what's happened. I tried to go to the Watchtower yesterday, but I was cut off."

"Wait wait wait-You have access to the Watchtower? When'd that happen?"

"About the same time the Titans formed."

"Damn. They must love you upstairs," Roy sulked a little bit. "I mean it figures why I didn't get invited. I've made a lot of mistakes that I'm sure they don't approve of."

"Roy, you're better now. You got clean, and help us everyday. Besides, we need to focus." Roy shook himself out of his own self pity.

"Right. Right, go on. You said you were cut off from the Watchtower?"

"Yeah. It's like the system had been taken over. All of the coding system seemed off. Different, but trying to disguise itself like the old one. It's hard to describe, but I'll see if Tim can look at it in his free time."

"Free time? The boy's Red Robin, tech genius,it's his job."

"He wants out, Roy. He's planning on going to Ivy University in the Fall."

"Wow. That's um...ok."

"That's why I'm trying to keep the League missing a small thing. It's why I've waited this long to tell you and the team. I didn't want it to be a problem if I could just find out what wrong and maybe bring them back myself." A thought came to Roy, a moment of deductive reasoning.

"That's why you came back early. It's not quiet in Bludhaven, is it?"

"Honestly, it's a mess, but not one I can deal with right now."

"You don't have to do it alone, Dick. It's why we have a team. It's why Gotham has so many vigilantes on guard right now. Hell, there's even a 13 year old assassin carrying the Robin mantle right now. We're all here to help, brother. Just say the word." Roy put a firm hand on Dick's shoulder, trying to console his friend.

"It's hard Roy. If you think Bludhaven is a mess, Gotham may as well be a warzone. The Bat family that's left is doing it's best, but without Tim, Bruce or Jason-"

"Wait, what's wrong with Jason?Is he sick?"

"No, he just doesn't want to help there. Thinks he can do more on the road between cities. Hell, he might even be laying low for a while, all things considered."

"What a bastard. He totally just turned tail?"

"It's not that simple, but I don't think we can count on him to help out the GCPD."

"So back to the Titans then? What're we doing? Dropping in to crack some skulls?"

"Roy stop. I know you're trying to make this better, but...The Titans are staying in Manhattan." Roy threw his hands up in outrage.

"Are you serious!"

"You guys need to stay safe and not spread yourselves too thin. I'm going-"

"No you're going to get yourself killed if you keep trying to be everywhere at once. You investigated the League's disappearance for six days and came up empty. We need to file in, Dick."

" **No**."Dick's voice was suddenly very stern and driven. "You need to focus on the mission, Roy. The League is missing, but we need to go where we are needed. All of us. Investigate what you can, but if it comes between you and saving people, drop it. The League knew the risks, and did what they could. Now it's up to us to do the same."

"Up to us? Dick, what're you going to be doing? You can't go off on your own to hunt down whoever did this." Dick got up to leave, but Roy kept going.

"You're out of your mind. Dammit Dick! Nightwing can't do everything on his own!" Dick stopped in the wide doorway, his back still facing Roy. He gave another heavy sigh, lowering his head. He looked resolved to whatever it was that he was about to do.

"You're right. **He** can't." He left without another word.


	7. Chapter 7

Chapter Seven

"The fires will rage, and worlds will burn!" It was him, his voice,his thunderous command. Surrounded by fire and stone, the demon Trigon towered above her. She knew what he was, the conqueror of one million worlds, the one true king of Hell, and a force beyond anything Earth had ever faced. To Raven, however,she had only one word for him. Father.

"You will be the vessel of my return. I shall quell this world of it's feeble warriors, and you will once again be mine to command!" He clenched his fist around the armrests of his goliath-like throne of dark stone.

"I won't let you father!" Her indigo cape fluttered behind her, as she released a small wave of force from her body. She had to fight him, even if she knew what it would mean.

"You will kneel! Or-" he lifted a titanic fist over her, his four slit eyes narrowing even further. "-You will be destroyed!" His fist drove down, and try as she might to move, her legs were paralyzed. The blow came crashing down and-

Raven jolted herself awake, sweat beating down her forehead. It was just a dream, she reminded herself. Just a dream. What hurt even worse was the knowledge that one day it wouldn't be. Trigon's return was inevitable.

"Oh good, you're awake." Leaning his back on the her door Damian Wayne twitched a half amused smile. He was, as usual, in his full Robin uniform, mask attached to the bridge of his nose almost like it was a permanent fixture. His eyes had always been obscured by the white lenses of the domino mask for as long as she'd known him.

"What are you doing in my room?! Were you watching me sleep!" She almost pushed herself out of bed, but realized she wasn't nearly clothed enough for that. With a snort of indignation, she willed her lavender uniform around herself, wrapping around her skin with an elegant flourish. She pulled her hood over her face, trying to cover her displeasure.

"Why are you here, Damian?" He took a step toward her, trying to act like he wasn't a 13 year old kid wearing red, green, and yellow. Robin gave a menacing glare.

"Because I have reason to believe my father is missing. And you're going to help me find him." Raven was still recovering from her dream, she must have misheard him.

"Wait, what makes you think I can help?"

"Simple. You're a supernatural conduit. A mystic with a pool of limitless potential, thanks to your own father. You're going to use that power, use it to return my father, the World's greatest hero back to this realm, and you're going to do it now."

"Hold on, just...You're telling me that your father is in another dimension? How is that possible?"

"I don't know if it is, but it's the only logical conclusion. His body has been absent from Earth, there is no evidence of a final battle or last stand as he would have wished, and none of his adversaries have taken the credit. That along with what I witnessed at the Cave."

"What did you see?"

"It was the butler. He was…" Damian stifled some sort of reaction, only to jump back to his usual angry self. "The old man was weeping." Raven put a hand over her mouth.

"That's...I'm sorry, Damian. I-"

"He's a fool, Raven. From a former international operative like him, I expected vengeance, not wallowing ."

"Damian, I don't think your father is-"

"He's alive, Raven. He's not on this world which obviously means that he is on another one. I spoke with Starfire, and she told me that the League doesn't not just fly out into space. There are protocols, preparations to be made, so they couldn't have just flown off. They weren't abducted either, an alien teleportation device would have sent some sort transceiver, of which I've found none; and after hacking ARGUS, STAR labs, and Lexcorp I realize that neither has anyone else. That could only mean one thing. Dimensional shifts. A Demon, or Spirit of some kind. That has to be it, all other possibilities are too outrageous or come up short of the truth."

"Robin, he's not-"

"He IS, Raven. My Father is alive, and he is lost somewhere in your plane of existence."

"I'm not of Hell. I've given up that life."

"No, but it was your origin. Your place of birth. You need to take me there, to have me pull my father out of the very jaws of Hell if need be." Damian sniffed, as his face began to shows signs emotions other than anger. He was...Sad.

"He's not dead okay! He's not. He-" Raven pulled him into a hug, letting the Boy Wonder sob into her shoulder.

"Shh, it's okay. It's okay."

"Why?!" He choked out harshly. "Why would he leave me?"

"I don't think he meant to." She closed her eyes, trying not to burst into tears herself. "I think he always loved you. He...I think he always wanted the best for you, for you to be what he couldn't."

"Oh yeah," Damian croaked. "And what's that?" He wiped the snot from his nose with his sleeve, lightly pushing her aside.

"A light. I think he always wanted the world for you, whether he told you or not...I think your father wanted you to do more good than he could. Or at least for you to make your own decisions." Robin stood up from the bed, trying to turn himself away from her.

"Then you clearly didn't know him." Raven took Damian's hand, and for a split second the two locked eyes. It was an unspoken understanding they had. They were both caged by their fathers, trying to be free from their pre-arranged destinies. Now Damian had the freedom to choose, be a hero like his father, or a monster like his grandfather, the cult leader Ras Al Ghul. Both equally influential men, but opposites in their view of the world.

"I think I knew The Batman though. You did too. Now you have to decide if you want to live up to that legacy, or make a new one for yourself." Damian's face tensed, as he grit his teeth in turmoil. His fists began to shake until he fell to his knees.

Damian let out an outcry of intense pain, as if his heart had literally been pierced. It was hard to see him like this, like some sort of wounded animal raving mad. He snarled, then took in a sharp breath, falling to all fours. He huffed his breaths, his hair falling over his face as he stared down at her floor.

Slowly, almost delicately she crouched beside him. Her arm made it's way over his shoulder, her cape dawning over him like a thin shield. Closing her eyes, she tapped at his mind, not digging, just brushing it with her telepathic abilities. With the faintest of efforts, she was trying to dig past the rage in his heart. The pain. The guilt. Eventually, while Damian was focused on his deep breaths, Raven got his to the source of his pain, to deal with it at it's core.

"Tell me truthfully, Damian, what's wrong? It isn't that you can't solve this case, or you don't know the man you want to be when you grow up. What is it?"

"I MISS HIM!" His body tensed one final time. "I MISS MY FATHER!" Raven cradled her friend as he wept in front of her. No one had ever trusted her with such intimacy, such vulnerability. It was so strange, helping people without fighting a criminal. She knew there was something else she had to do to make it really count.

"Damian. I'll do it."

"What?"

"I'll go to Trigon's domain. I'll find your father if he's there." She pulled him into a hug, and for the first time in a long time she let herself cry, now with him. Unlike Damian, however, it wasn't out of sorrow of losing someone, or joy that there was still hope. No, she cried out of the carnal fear that tore her up inside. She knew that there was no way her father would let her escape his domain, if he had the choice. Assuming Batman was in Hell, Raven would have to defeat her father to get him back.

"Thank you, Raven," Damian said honorably. "You are a true friend. I'm glad you are a member of the Teen Titans. I'm...I'm glad you're here." He tried hold her close again, probably still just for comfort, but she couldn't risk it. She closed herself off, leaving him sitting on the edge of her bed with arms half outstretched.

"You should get some sleep," she vocalized as monotone as she could, wiping her tears away. "It's nearly morning. We can talk more about this later." He left without another word, but before he did their eyes locked one more time. In that moment, her feelings betrayed her, and she could feel Damian discover the sacrifice she was willing to make for him. He gave a small nod of respect and leapt out her window into the night.

Raven let her head fall back on her pillow, afraid to fall asleep. Every night she dreamed of Trigon, and sooner than she thought possible, those nightmares were about to become reality. "I hope I know what I'm doing," she comforted herself. Raven tried her best to fall asleep, but her fear kept her awake until morning broke. Leaning passively on her window sill, she watched the sun rise. It was rising on a world where boys were forced to become men overnight, and little girls had to fight demons. Was there really anyone left to save them, or was it finally that inevitable day. The day when they would all have to learn how to save themselves.


	8. Chapter 8

Chapter Eight

Metropolis was beautiful this time of morning. The sun was just rising over the city skyline, and there was an air of restfulness to the world. It was this drowsy peace, this excellence that had a certain grace to it. It's audience, a lone billionaire gazing out his window, knew what the sun's rising on this particular meant. Lex Luthor knew that today marked officially one week without a Justice League. An entire week without Superman.

Despite being a new paragon of a city he practically owned, his relationship with the man of steel was grainy at best. They'd done battle for so many years, that when Lex had stood at Earth's defense during an invasion of multi-dimensional super criminals, Superman hadn't known how to respond. In truth, Lex had questioned his change of heart for the longest time. Had he really turned over a new leaf? Was he truly reforming? He had donated more to philanthropy in the last business year than the last decade combined, but Lex knew the ultimate futility in material wealth. What truly mattered were his actions. His morals. After just a few weeks of begrudgingly helping Superman, the two had come to a certain understanding, that Lex for all intents and purposes was going to protect **his** city at all costs, and if Superman didn't try and stop him, they could do business. Yes. Business.

"Mr. Luthor," his reception worked called over the desk speaker. "There's a man here to see refuses to give a name."

"Does this man have an appointment, Mercy?" Lex was almost aggravated that his morning form of meditation had been interrupted by something so trivial.

"No sir."

"Then send him away. We don't do walk ins."

"Sir, he's insisting." He could tell she was starting to freak out, just a little. This man was more intimidating than most from the sound of things. Lex thumbed the red button beneath his desk.

"Security is on its way, Mercy."

"Thank you sir."

"Very good. No further interruptions until my 10 o'clock, understood?"

"Yes, Mr. Luthor." He clicked off his speaker, less relieved that this situation was over than annoyed it had even happened in the first place.

The sunset, yes. His cleansing air of peace and quiet. Metropolis, the greatest city in the world was now entirely his. Not to rule, but to protect without further interference.

"Sir?" Her voice was sharper, more static and pitchy. It was unbearable.

"What is it now?!" There was something else over their connection. Was she sobbing?

"H-h-he killed them...I'm sorry, I'm sorry. I had to-I had to let him go or he'd-" Lex's bulking doors began sliding open. It was a door that would always remain locked, unless someone had open access to enter from Mercy. Damn bitch had let a killer into his office.

Lex was reaching for his emergency panic button when he say who was on the other side of the door. His hand returned to his side, but he remained cautious.

"Vandal Savage, to what do I owe the pleasure?" Vandal Savage was military mastermind, a criminal of the highest caliber, and above all else immortal in the truest definition of the word. No matter what happened to Vandal physically, his body would simply regenerate in a matter of seconds, save only for a series of three parallel scars across his face. The man had centuries worth of knowledge and resources at his disposal, and had come to Luthor's doorstep with violence. "Would you like to sit?"

"You know why I'm here, Luthor." His voice was gruff. Calm enough, but Lex could feel the animal behind his eyes. "Gorilla Grodd was imprisoned, and you're responsible."

"You must be confused. I haven't done anything to you or your...Legion."

"It's for that reason that I am here." Lex stood to face Savage,who was now pacing with his hands held behind his back. "In the past we have trusted your company for its significant donations to our cause. You have always had a way of using your influence to reduce our sentences, or free us of incarceration altogether. Now it would seem you have cut ties to our organization and have begun working with the Man of Steel."

"I didn't stop Grodd, it was that New Flash."

"All the same, you didn't so much as lift a finger to help your former ally. Instead you've spent your time buying out the Daily Planet and becoming well acquainted with the Justice League's leadership."

"Like you haven't befriended your enemies before."

"Only in order to gain a temporary trust. Only with a clear motive in mind."

"Then who is to say I am not doing the same thing?"

"Because you have begun to undo your partnership with the Legion. Even when nobody's watching, when you are out of public eye, you maintain this mantle of morality." He turned to Luthor, a dead glare of anger. "You're one of them now, Lex. A false guardian. A fool."

"Is that so?" Lex began reaching for his panic button, but not the one which summoned his security men. This one would activate **othe** r measures. "And who are you to question my intelligence? Some caveman with delusions of grandeur? Please, you insult yourself by coming to face me yourself." He lunged for the button, but stopped himself in a moment of clarity.

"No. No you didn't come here to fight me. You wouldn't be so defenseless." Luthor allowed pride to betray his confidence.

"You are right, Lex. I am not here to fight you." Vandal allowed his hands to fall to his sides. His fingers were dripping in human blood, spattering on the glossy floor. "I am here to warn you. If you do not cease this foolhardy crusade to "protect the people", the Legion will have no choice, but to...Use necessary force to get what we require."

"Don't insult me. You don't need money, Savage. In your many lifetimes you've amassed a fortune that puts even my own to shame. And you don't need my skill, any number of super powered thugs could bend steel like my suits can. No...You need something else from me, something you are finding it hard to admit you even desire. Why my dear friend, you need my mind, is that it? Your organization finding it low on intelligence is it?" Savage growled between his teeth.

"You have knowledge we require. The ability to make individuals, super-powered individuals no less, disappear without a trace, it's remarkable. The possibilities are endless, if we were to work together." Lex raised an eyebrow.

"What exactly are you implying?"

"You did the unthinkable. The greatest obstacle to human evolution, the Justice League is gone, and Metropolis is now yours. You stood a lot to gain from Superman's disappearance, and have only now succeeded in your goal."

"Are you suggesting that I defeated the Justice League? All on my own?"

"Forgive me for not thinking it convenient that after only a month of your supposed friendship with the Man of Steel, he and all of his fellow Leaguers were eradicated. Who do you take me for, Lex?" With a smirk and a chuckle, Lex took his seat once again.

"Well, as much as I would have wanted to take the credit for it in the past, I simply can't. I did not make any such attacks on the League. In all honesty, I thought you had been the mastermind behind it." Savage took the seat across from Lex, now pensively stroking his chin.

"Hmm, it would appear a third party is playing us for fools. I shall have to investigate further."

"What," Lex said sardonically. "No further investigation? I thought you a better mind than to give up there."

"I am sure of your truthfulness, Luthor. A man of your stature would have trumpeted your success over Superman from the mountains, reformed man or no."

"Well if you were so sure it was me, why give me so much grief over my alignment with Superman? What does it matter now that he's gone?"

"Simple Lex," Vandal stood menacingly. "Even if you had somehow killed every so called hero on the planet, betraying me is a crime that can not go unpunished. It's the principle, and one I hope you understand."

"I think I understand quite clearly." Both men were smiling for their own purposes.

"Excellent. You have by noon tomorrow to return your usual funding to the Legion, or you will suffer the consequences." Vandal turned to leave, but Lex stopped him.

"And if I should refuse?" A wicked grin crossed the scarred man's face.

"Then consider your own mortality. Remember Luthor, your super friends aren't here to save you anymore."

The door slid closed behind Vandal, as Lex fell back into his chair. He took a cooling breath. The audacity. Nobody, **nobody,** shook down Lex Luthor. He slammed a finger down on his reception speaker.

"Mercy!"

"Y-Yes, mister Luthor?"

"Cancel all of my appointments for the rest of the day."

"Y-y-yes sir."

"And Mercy?"

"Yes?"

"After you're done, pack up your things. The company has decided it is time you be let go."

"B-but Mr.-"

"Have a pleasant day." He didn't have time to deal with weaklings in his midst. He needed someone as cold and calculating as him. Someone that could guarantee his protection until he solved this mess. He knew just the person for the job.

Pulling out his secured earpiece, Lex punched several memorized digits on his cell phone. After only a single ring, his call was answered.

"What?" His voice was aggravated, annoyed, and possibly injured knowing his usual line of work.

"It's Lex."

"I know who it is. I've heard your voice before."

"Yes, well I have a proposition for you."

"Can't. Busy."

"You haven't heard the price yet."

"Doesn't matter. I'm not your lap dog, and I don't do favors." Lex could tell they were about to hang up.

"Wait! What if I were to offer you something other than money."

"Uninterested."

"Not even for the newest model of the Promethean armor?" There was a pause.

"Don't toy with me Lex, that shit is years out. Last model is only months old. And I already have it."

"Officially yes, but unofficially if I were to work on it personally and have it done by say...ten tomorrow? Could I count on you to be here?" There was an audible grunt.

"I'll consider it." The connection cut, but Lex knew he'd piqued their interest. He'd come, if for no other reason than to access if Luthor's claims were genuine.

Good. Now not only did he own Metropolis, but also the World's deadliest assassin, Deathstroke the Terminator. It was looking like today was going to be a beautiful day.


	9. Chapter 9

Chapter Nine

The reputation of low-rent apartments in Crime Alley was they were filled with either crazies, conspiracy theorists, or people looking to hide. In the case of The Question, all three applied. He'd been known as the faceless detective to very few, and friend to far fewer. He wasn't actually faceless, it was simply a Pseudoderm sheet that he'd attached to himself long ago to hide his identity. In all honesty, he'd kept it on so long, there would be nights where he'd simply forget who he'd been before The Question. Some called him crackpot, most dismissed him outright, but to a special few he was seen as the most dangerous man in the world. Now for anything so outstanding as martial arts tricks or his marksmanship, no he had a far more powerful weapon. The truth.

Wall to wall he'd hung documents, articles, pictures, anything and anything he could get his hands on that he found valuable. He found everything valuable, to his own admittance. Everything from false Sasquatch reports to documented terror threats, The Question saw it all as one big picture. To him, there _was no_ other picture, it was all connected. To him, there was no such thing as the _smaller picture_ , just a piece of the big one.

"Soder-Cola stocks increase by a margin of .03 percent while LexCorp sales in male enhancement products increase by a margin of .045 percent. The reason? Soder-Cola uses sexual themes in their advertising." He spoke aloud to no one else,but himself.

"Daily Planet admits absence of Superman, but Lois Lane writes fluff pieces of Lex Luthor's generous donation to Boardwalk Orphanage. Suspicious that Lois Lane, being the key reporter in Superman affairs, would not write the article on his absence," he shrugged. "Perhaps tired of winning Pulitzers. Will investigate further." His articles were strictly that. No computers, no phone, no technology of any kind. The room had even come with a grainy television from the early 2000's, which he'd immediately thrown out of his third story window, only to calmly walk downstairs, inform the manager of the happening and pay them for a replacement after their stay. He hadn't left the room since then. It'd been four days ago.

"Now to Gotham City...Yes, where are you? There, aha I've caught you!" The Question threw his hand out toward one of the many dozens of papers that had slid onto the wooden floorboards, snatching up an unsuspecting cockroach. "You! Who are you?" He played interrogation, as the roach's antennae twitched.

"A spy sent by the Scarecrow? A plague from some unknown alien menace? Or are you simply what you are? The most durable insect on the entire planet. You could survive an entire nuclear winter without so much as a thought to give." Another twitch.

"Unfortunately, you've readjusted those antennae of yours in between my common speech pattern. This risks you being a spy sent by the NSA, or perhaps even my old friends at CADMUS. Yes, those bastards would want me locked up, wouldn't they?" Another twitch.

"That seals your fate." The Question crushed the bug in his hand with a slippery squelching noise. Slime oozed out, as the exoskeleton had been crushed.

"Oh. Well, I'm sorry friend. Hopefully your siblings will survive longer."He dropped the remains on a plank of wood not covered by his mountain of research. "Now...Gotham, yes. Where oh where is the illusive Batman?"

"A robbery at Ace Chemicals was thwarted by Police Commissioner Gordon...No."

"A hostage crisis was negotiated by Detectives Renee Montoya and Harvey Bullock. Excellent work from the two of the most off the book cops in the precinct, but still not enough to link...Wait, the gunmen are remaining anonymous, but one is a former inmate a Blackgate Penitentiary, formerly serving a twenty year sentence. Criminals in Blackgate are either for life, or below a fifteen year sentence, except for…" He shuffled through some papers on the ground.

"Caught you. Jonathan Bigby. Heroin dealer, arrested four years ago in Star City by none other than the Green Arrow himself. Not soon after, his apprentice Speedy hung up his quiver for a six month period. A six month period perfectly coinciding with...a rehabilitation clinic's opening funded by the billionaire Oliver Queen. Now Mr. Queen's identity as the Green Arrow was no real secret among _our_ community, more an open secret to those who stay informed, so the fact that he opened this center after arresting a Heroin dealer, and before his partners temporary retirement means that his protege most certainly was meant to attend... However, the young lad was seen under the name Arsenal in Manhattan a few weeks before the program was finished...Interesting. The young boy wanted to prove he could be a man by joining the likes of Nightwing in the Titans. Nightwing. The first Robin. A Gotham City local. Same as Jonathan Bigby. How did you escape Bigby? Blackgate doesn't let prisoners just go out for midnight strolls. How was this not reported?"

"Wait a minute-Blackgate prison breaks going unnoticed, Luthor investing in Orphanages, and now the Titans...Yes, without the League, they seem the last line of defense, save only for the less formidable Teen Titans, led by the current Robin that was under Batman's tutelage. Fascinating how leadership is always given to those trained in the deductive arts." He chuckled. "By that logic, I should be leading the Justice League. No. Far too busy. Too much work to do. Too many questions."

The corpse of the cockroach twitched again, but The Question noticed something he must have missed before.

"Strange. You have two black stripes down your pronotum. That coupled with your irregularly small size means that you've lied to me from the very beginning, little one. Yes, it seems you are actually a German genus of Cockroach. You truly do not belong here, furthering my suspicion that you are being used to spy on me. There is no reason, short of an ecological crime that you should even be on this continent, unless of course…" He sifted through notes on Metropolis crimes in the past three days.

"I'll be…'Metropolis Zoo opens enclosed Bug exhibit' dated three years one month ago...And...Yes, 'Gorilla Grodd attacks Metropolis zoo' dated two days . It would seem the telepathic ape was trying to capitalize on the League's absence. Now let's see...Oh my. 'Incapacitated and apprehended by none other than the a speedster being referred to as the "New Flash". Odd how Grodd's penalty looks to match his crime of terrorizing the public. Normally, Luthor would have made a shadowy change to that, corruption in the police force or judicial system. But not this time. Perhaps Luthor is reformed, but it still doesn't solve the League's disappearance."

"Go over the facts. Just run through them again. Assess and extrapolate. Now lets see the missing list one more time." He pulled down on a university projector screen he had re purposed into his own MIA board of heroes around the world.

"The Justice League weren't the only ones taken were they...No. There were others, seemingly unrelated. Unnoticed to the public eye, but not to me. The truth will be found."

"There was always a revolving door of Justice League members, but it would seem nearly all of them are now missing. Of course the core members: Superman, Batman, Wonder woman, Aquaman, The Flash, Cyborg, all gone. The original Green Lantern, Hal Jordan left for deep space in late August, and most others had been lost in the stars long before that. All, but two brand new rookies. Simon Baz, muslim immigrant who had been held in GitMo until his ring had found him and broken him out. Lucky. And Jessica Cruz, an anxiety ridden introvert who, up until a year ago, had been hiding in her apartment for years at a time. The two of them are now both missing, and seemingly by the same anomaly that took the rest of the League."

"Then there are the less prestigious League members. Captain Atom, the nuclear soldier is also gone according to General Eiling's field reports. Zatanna Zatarra's Vegas show had to cancel for the month. It would seem she was a no show. Then there's the biblical avatar of the Green, Swamp Thing. Botanical researchers at Ivy University were using him as a topic of their thesis, but according to this piece here it would seem that he's gone missing too. That, grouped with the fact that there are currently no Green Lanterns on world means one thing. We're utterly defenseless. Yes, I see it now. It's all so clear. Captain Atom was a military deterrent, preventing aggressive nations from attacking our shores. A righteous military lap dog with the nuclear potential to wipe out the planet. Zatanna and Swamp Thing protected the world from magical affairs. Without them, our defense is now in...Lesser hands. And without the Green Lanterns, intergalactic threats could pop in at a moment's notice. This is...Problematic" Calculating internally, The Question desperatly tried to do a head count of who could be left on Earth, but without an official database to access from the League, it was impossible to know. Instead, he just accounted for what he did know, and the difference would just be another series of questions for another time.

"Elongated Man is still on Earth, but has retired from the hero game after the murder of his wife. Hmmm... Donna Troy, Tempest, and Aqualad have all been seen in action in the past week, so no connection to Atlantean or Amazonian involvement. Starfire has made no differences to her behavior, so it's safe to assume her homeworld of Tamaran is not invading. The young witch Raven is characteristically docile, good for a child of prophecy such as her."

The Question glanced at more classified documents he'd robbed from an Argus outpost north of the Louisiana Bayou, a location he suspected contained a secret base for Argus, perhaps a metahuman containment center of sorts. Too much off the grid electrical energy spotted from LexCorp satellites in that region to be nothing. Their documents, however, had been quite revealing.

"It would appear every member of Waller's Task Force X is still in their proper containment, save for one. Katana...Yes, Batman had approached her to join the League at one point, but she'd turned him down. Some argument to do with killing criminals...Hmm." Reaching into his trench coat pocket, The Question pulled out a spare piece of paper, and scribbled a note on it, circled it, and attached it to his board with a pin. It read: "Not all Heroes are Heroes?"

"So who is left? Assess and extrapolate. Nightwing, Arsenal, Donna Troy, Tempest Omen and the New Flash-The Titans in their entirety. Robin, Starfire, Beast Boy, Raven,Aqualad and Kid Flash-The Teen Titans in their entirety. Then a few outcasts and misfits. Batwoman,Orphan, Spoiler and Red Robin, although Red Robin's appearances have been in steady decline. Most likely unrelated. Azrael of the Order of Saint Dumas has appeared as often as someone from Saint Dumas does, but unclear if he has been taken thus far. No current known connection to the League, but not ruling anything out. The second Blue Beetle of Earth has also been seen flying over the small town of El Paso, Texas. His abilities stem from the scarab attached to some poor young man's body. Origin unknown, motives unknown. Must research further..." He caught a glimpse of a small business card on his desk.

"Ah yes, and of course Master of the Dark Arts, John Constantine. And in the vein of magic, where is that fateful doctor? Yes, Doctor Fate, Naabu himself. Not usually one to intervene, but in days like these, his help could be useful. Perhaps Fate shall intervene, perhaps not."

"That's all then, a mystical helmet, a conning exorcist, some non-lethal assassins, and two teams of super powered teenagers. All that and a crackpot to tell them how all the dominoes are going to fall." He let out a sigh, shaking his head slowly at the crushed bug. He saw a second roach skitter around, until it found its siblings corpse, whereupon it galloped away as fast as it could.

"My thoughts exactly. Now let us see how we- Wait!" Pushing through folders and newspapers, The Question came to an article dated two weeks ago. 'Pamela Isely slated for Electric Chair.'

"No. No no no no **NO!** " He threw his trilby to the floor, running frantic fingers through his hair. "Its already written! In Swamp Things absence, Pamela Isley was to become avatar of the Green, protector of the natural world. But, with them both dead the inevitability of an attack from beyond has increased exponentially." He took a stammering step back, trying to solve his problem, but then he dawned upon the big picture.

"Earth loses avatar of the Green. A War wages in Gotham. Luthor captured. Dark Magic envelops the planet. Chaos. End of the world." A series of small articles, connected by red string caught his eye. Detective clippings in the Gotham Gazette, and Argus documents slowly coming together to one revelation.

"Of course. Humanity needs answers, but good and evil out of balance. In the end, I will be silenced for what I know. Inevitably Waller will discover my clandestine activities against her. Floyd Lawton does not miss, and I am not hard to find, relative to foreign spy agencies. My life is going to end in the days to come...But my work?...No my work will continue..." He picked up one of the articles he'd began with, the one about Jonathan Bigby.

"Who are you, Renee Montoya? Now that...That is The Question."


	10. Chapter 10

Chapter Ten

Ted Grant dived and dipped against his stationary punching bag. A few jabs, a right hook, then a left, and a right uppercut to finish. The Gym was his, and well past closing time, the lights all dark, but the one he was using. The air would have been frighteningly quiet, if not for Ted's heavy pounding on the bag. His breaths were in huffs, and his legs ached. What made it worse was the joint pain, tearing at his knees and elbows every time he hopped to the right, or threw a punch. Over his shoulders hung posters of his heavy weight fight against Cassius Clay. All he could remember were the lights, the fans, the roaring atmosphere. The world's ears were on him, the radio waves all tuned in on his fight with the challenger of the Heavyweight title. That had been his night, his night to prove that good old Wildcat wasn't out of the game just yet. His night to prove he could still throw a punch. That had been fifty years ago.

The chains holding the bag to the ceiling rang with each hit. Sweat beat down his weathered face, flashes of that night hitting him with each punch he threw. Jab- "Tuning in live now at the MGM Grand where we have one helluva fight- Left cross- "The two men are touching gloves"- Right cross- DING! "And there's the bell!"

Every second of that fight was ingrained into his memory. He'd forget his grandchildren's birthdays every so often, or which meds to take when, or hell, even those rare occasions where the Justice League would let him play with the big boys. Yeah, he'd been quite the League back in his time, of course back then it had been called something else. The Justice Society of America, boy those were the glory days. That Golden Age where criminals were put away and heroes were celebrated. He could remember bits and pieces from way back when. Moments from a simpler time, one where costumed folk weren't ridiculed or debated over. Everything in his head from back then was fuzzy, like scratched up film projection.

Ted knew some of the pieces, sure, and had tons of great times fighting alongside the likes of Black Canary or even Superman once or twice, but things that happened that after that one night, his entire career with the League even, just felt a little emptier.

"Wildcat's really giving it to Clay now!" Ted slammed a series of aching blows against the bag, as if his greatest opponent was in the room with him. "A left, another one, three now. An uppercut-Clay's guard is broken! Grant takes the advantage, drilling into Clay's body! He's giving it all he's got ladies and gentlemen! Clay is taking an absolute beating!"

His fists moved faster and faster, a growl slowly building in him. "My word! He's got him in the corner!" Ted's mouth opened, teeth grit. "Clay just can't seem to get his hands up!" The growl became a furious roar. "Clay's going down! Round One, ladies and gentlemen, and Clay is already on the mat! One thing's for sure, this Wildcat still has his claws!"

Ted leaned on the bag, panting as sweat fell from his brow. That had been his moment of limelight. Clay had gotten up, of course, and in the Eleventh round had won the match by TKO. It had been a good fight, and a great way to end his boxing career, but not enjoy a full retirement just yet. No, he'd left the ring on good terms, so in exchange he'd started his own gym up in '72. Not a lot of guys came by at first, but he got by.

Then a couple decades later, a young gal by the name of Dinah Lance came in, wanting learn how to fight. Thinking nothing of it, he led her to another professional, but she'd asked for him specifically. Casually, he'd taught her the same things he would have taught anyone else, the basics. When she showed how capable she could be in the ring, he'd trained her a bit more. The whole time Dinah had been oddly interested in **his** form, **his** movements and most importantly **his** punches.

She later revealed herself as a member of the Justice League, claiming that they wanted him on board because of his service with the JSA during the war. Sure enough he joined, expecting to be a front runner, or to see action more than once a month. Mostly they kept him on board to teach the young bloods how to actually throw a punch. It was especially demeaning because he knew most of them could kill him with a blast of their eye beams or super strength, or something else like that. Hell, Superman had once asked him to show him guards. Him, a lowly boxer teaching the literal Man of Steel how to block a punch. about two years of their slow torture, Ted had hung up his cowl for a second time, coming back to his Gym, where he was today, stuck remembering that fight.

Yes...That fight against Cassius Clay, who one day would go by another name. Muhammad Ali. Ask anyone on the street who the greatest boxer of all time was, and they'd tell you it was Ali. Float like a butterfly sting like a bee, damn what a guy. And he'd fought him, in front of the world. Yet, say the name Ted Grant to anyone on the street and what do you get? Nothing. Just confused faces. Probably get the same reaction if you asked any of today's new blood Leaguers too. Hell, all his friends from the JLA were gone now, either dead or just knew that the worst part about getting old wasn't the sickness or the pain. The worst part was becoming irrelevant.

There was a click at the entrance, the lock turning. Catching his breath, Ted checked the clock on the wall. It was four in the morning, well before anyone should have been here to open up.

"Hey, Toby-that you?" Walking around the corner, he saw the single pane door was wide open, letting in nothing, but a gentle wind. It was just as silent out on the snowy streets as it was in here. There was no one there. "Damn lock." Closing the door, Ted attempted to click the dial on the door to lock, but for some reason it was jamming.

"Wait a second." On the exterior side of the door, a visible bobby pin was stuck in the keyhole of the door. Someone had broken in. Unsure if they'd run off, or were in the building somewhere, Ted decided to plant his feet.

"Hey pal," he projected, loosening up his shoulder. "I don't know who you think you're dealing with, but I think you should go." There was a small footstep from behind him, somewhere in the darkness inside. "Last chance, I don't want to have to hurt some kid if I don't have to." Ted raised his hands in a guard form. The wind tickled at his sides, only wearing his grey tank top as protection from nature.

There was a moment, no longer than half a second, that Ted could feel something about to happen. It was an unspoken violence in the air around him, an instinct that told him to move. Now.

Trying with all his might, Ted threw himself to the floor, trying his best to tuck and roll. There was a brief flash of light and a metal 'PING' noise. A jolt of pain in Ted's ribs sent him rolling on his back, halfway through his roll. From the pain on his side, and the amount of blood that was seeping into his shirt, it wasn't hard to figure out that this punk had shot him. Struggling, Ted eventually picked himself back up, more blood lacing his teeth.

"Coward. Shooting an old man from the dark." Stumbling, he raised his guard again, sputtering a bit of blood out of his mouth. "I bet you're just afraid Grandpa could take you in a fight. Come on out. Prove me wrong."

Footsteps, slow, methodical, and heavy ones. Big boots stepped into the light, plated and cushioned like a para-military nightmare. Cargo pockets were harnessed all over their body, the armor continuing along the thighs, and especially on the chest. A sword was slung over his back, and a large pistol was in their left had. The most notable feature however, a glossy mask with only one eye hole, split down the middle with orange on one side and black on the other.

"Deathstroke. Huh, figured someone would want me dead eventually. Grrh! Just didn't think they'd send someone like you." The world's deadliest assassin holstered his gun. Slade may have been about Ted's age, but physically he could move like someone in their twenties, while still thinking like a military general. Enhanced reflexes, strength, all of it, Deathstroke the Terminator was the perfect killer. And Ted was just a has-been from Queens.

"Alright, pal. You here to kill me, then you better get-" It was over before it even began. In a single stride, Deathstroke had pulled out his blade and cut clean through Ted, a swipe right through his lower spine. The assassin stood their for a moment, his blade held low, releasing his controlled breath.

Ted regurgitated more arterial blood, falling back into the snowbank. Deathstroke sheathed his blade and called his employer.

"Yeah, it's me...You'll get proof of death in tomorrow's paper...He's right outside his gym...Good...Transfer it to my side account, I'll be needing it for expenses later...No,I think we can arrange that…" He began walking into the street as nonchalantly as if he'd just swatted a fly.

Ted could have heard his footsteps in the snow, if he wasn't too busy listening to something else. "Tuning in live now at the MGM Grand where we have one helluva fight…"


	11. Chapter 11

Chapter Eleven

Echoes of gunshots and police sirens cried out through the night. In Crime Alley, The Penguin had created a barricade on a four way intersection. Some sort of shoot out with the police to distract from a robbery two blocks down, allegedly being led by the crime boss himself. Dispatch had already been sent, but it seemed that just as they were another crisis had popped up. City Hall was under siege by former DA, Harvey Dent, now known as Two-Face. He was after Mayor Sharp, apparently because of allegations of corruption. If he did get the Mayor, he'd no doubt flip his executioners coin of his. Reserve GCPD officers were sent to City Hall to deal with the situation there, and Commissioner Jim Gordon was just getting in his car to head that way, when he got the call.

"Yeah? What is it?" He answered, not even seeing the number.

"It's me, Dad."

"Listen Barb, I'm very busy tonight," he claimed, swerving through traffic with his siren blaring.

"I know, Dad. That's why I'm calling. There's trouble at Miller Harbor. Scarecrow is going to release a fear-toxin bomb. It'll send the whole city into a violent panic." Gordon swore under his breath.

"And you know this how?" His voice betrayed his anger. He could tell she was working closely with **him**.

"It's not important. You need to drive. Now!" Gordon swung left on the wheel hard, pulling an admittedly reckless U-turn to get to Miller Harbor.

"On my way, hon. When I get back though, you and I are going to have a talk about-"

"Love you too, Dad." She hung up, leaving him shaking his head, his scowl bristling his mustache against his nose. Grabbing his radio, he dialed in a frequency.

"This is Gordon, I need all available units to Miller Harbor ASAP. Bomb threat identified. Again, Bomb threat confirmed in the area." Technically this wasn't true. According to regulation, he couldn't confirm a bomb threat unless their was an eye witness, and all he had was Barbara's she wasn't that close and just had a strong lead, but that was good enough for him. Besides, knowing the Caped Crusader, it'd probably already be solved by the time they showed up. At least that's the relief Gordon would have felt, if it hadn't been the ninth night in a row without a Batman sighting. Nine nights, nine in a row of criminals testing the waters of the law. At first it had been small, things that would be misdemeanors if caught by GCPD. Then, at round day four, crime bosses started getting more aggressive. Drive by shootings, ordering hits on cops, even poisoned a judge's water in the very court he was presiding over. Bigger and bigger names started getting in on the action as time passed. Tonight, the biggest names on the roster were trying their hand at twisting the law, but Gordon wouldn't let them. Even without Gotham's vigilante, people would still defend this city, be they cops or… Other individuals.

Speeding down a back alley onto the concrete roads of the Harbor, Gordon could hear that a gunfight had already broken out. With a badge around his neck and his duster flapping behind his feet, Jim jogged closer to the building, weapon drawn, but down and safety on. As he got closer, he noticed another car, a beat up black camry with a familiar looking licence plate and a police light attached to its roof.

"Damn it, Bullock."

There was a ferocious gunshot from inside a nearby warehouse. Shotgun from the sound of it. Instinctively, Gordon ducked, but nothing happened outside. He dared to hide behind Detective Bullock's car, parked just across from the warehouse where the commotion was coming from. The building had a lot of windows, two stories of them, but no lights were on inside, and the glass itself was very muddy. Gordon couldn't see a thing, but didn't want to charge in half cocked if he could help it.

Working his way around the building, Gordon tried to find a ladder to the roof, hoping maybe there was a skylight on the place to give him a better angle of the situation. Hustling the best he could, Gordon turned the corner just in time to see a window crash outward in front of him.

Glass shattered, some even spilling over the edge of the concrete and into the waves of the river. A thug in a thick jacket had been launched from wherever he'd been. As Gordon got on top of him to detain him, sure enough he found a loyalty patch for The Scarecrow on his jacket. They may have been criminal organizations way back when, but villian association now served more gangs. These groups were very different to deal with, each of them. Organized crime, like the Falcone's had bloodlines, a hierarchy, and no less than half a dozen dirty cops on their worked on a twisted system of ethics, as well as a supply a demand for certain goods. Super villains on the other hand, they did as they damn well pleased, full autonomy to whatever morals they'd had in their previous life, and a new identity to the public. This, naturally, had invited thugs off the street, or beaten teens into their business, all looking to strike big on some over the top heist. Hell, the kid Gordon was pinning now couldn't have been over and unconscious, Gordon left the kid in the pavement, only to look up to see inside.

Amidst over a dozen similarly dressed gangsters, bullets were flying left and right. Ducking to the side, Gordon clicked the safety off his pistol.

"POLICE! STAND DOWN!" He shouted, but was drowned out by the gunfire.

"THERE! THERE HE IS!" Gordon cursed again, and condemned himself for what he was about to have to do here. Pivoting around the corner, he brought his gun up. He'd expected them to be swarming him, but far from it. Instead of a bullet storm, not a single one of them was even looking in his general direction. Instead,all their eyes were up, looking in the rafters. Each had an illegal firearm of some kind, shotguns, and fully automatic rifles.

Gordon saw it though, behind them all was a large metal device almost three feet high. On it was a green display, reading 2:38, and counting down. Less than three minutes to take out the goons and disarm the bomb.

"Where'd he go!" One of the thugs shouted. They were all trigger happy, so Gordon made himself scarce, trying to crouch into the shadows in an attempt to get closer to that ticking bomb. Didn't matter that his experience with this sort of thing was minimal, he had to do something.

"I'm tired of this man! I CAN'T TAKE IT!"

"Calm down! Just chill, man!"

"Are you kidding me?! They got Jack, man! Fucking fuck this bullshit!

"Can't quit on us now!" Gordon used this to army crawl right under the stairway that led to the second floor. He'd been a Marine after all, why waste the training.

A hand grabbed his mouth from behind, and Gordon instinctively went to struggle, but a familiar voice stopped him.

"Eh chief, it's me," he whispered.

"Bullock. What's the sitrep?"

"Shitshow, chief. Montoya's on the other side, but neither of us can get close to the damn thing." They kept their voices very low, as the goons kept complaining in the background.

"Probably for the best, wouldn't even know what to do if we did."

"Actually chief, Montoya says she got 'cperience in this department." This was news to Gordon, but he didn't want to waste time questioning it. Instead, he decided to make a tough call, but the inevitable one

"Alright, open fire on my mark." Gordon turned, and took aim.

"Hold on, chief," Bullock put a hand on Gordon's shoulder, only to have it be shaken off.

"It's them, or the City, Detective. They're not going to let us take it."

"No, chief. I mean-"

Bullock was cut off by a scream from one of the thugs. Turning, Gordon saw one of

them go flying into the air by his ankle. There was a barrage of bullets from the thugs, trying to hit their hidden attacker.

Three more of them flew off their feet, onto the ground for seemingly no reason at all. More screams, as Gordon noticed movement from across the room. It was Montoya, and she was making a mad dash for the bomb. 1:27 left.

An explosion of smoke went off in the center of the room, as a looming figure swept into it. BANG! A shotgun blast. Another. Then a series of grunts, a scattering of weapons falling to floor, then bodies, all one after the other. Not wanting to gawk like some on looker, Gordon made his way to Montoya to help out anyway he could.

"What do you need, Detective?" She'd already removed the front panel and was stripping wires. Dozens of them were interwoven, all looking like they were connected to a large vial of green liquid in the center.

"No clue, sir. Best I can figure it's a CS-450 system. Need to find the key signal cord and cut that off, but not until I disconnect the-"

"Gordon," a deep voice growled from behind him. Turning, the commissioner saw someone he thought had abandoned the city over a week ago.

"Batman? Where-"

"No time," He pulled out a small breathing mask from beneath his cape. "Put this on, and burn the chemical with your lighter. The bombs not an explosive, it's a dispersal unit. Boil what it's dispersing and it should be inoperable.

"Should?" Batman tossed him the mask.

"Just do it! Everyone else stand back, now." 0:19 left

Gordon put the mask over his face, and stuck his lighter inside the bomb. 0:15 left

He clicked his lighter on, igniting on the second flick. 0:17 left.

The liquid had a very low viscosity, which helped the boiling process considerably. The vial itself started to fog up as half the liquid was gone in a matter of seconds. Gordon dared not to look at the display now. Only a few drops left. Just a bit-

The vial shattered, and the final drops spilled over the stripped wires. Everything fizzled in front of him, as visibly green vapours clawed at his eyes. Taking a full breath through the rebreather, Gordon thanked God that Batman had showed up when he had.

He got up from his crouch, the gas fading into the wind. He looked inquisitively at Batman, and the Dark Knight nodded. Gordon took off the rebreather, and handed it off. Bullock and Montoya stood at Gordon's sides, all three amazed that he was actually back.

"I'll be taking that," Batman said, retrieving his equipment. There was something that Gordon noticed now, something he hadn't had when the bomb was still a threat. Batman, his voice was similar, but it wasn't quite right. The two had spent enough time on the GCPD roof to know each other's voices and speech patterns. Hell, the real Batman would have just silently taken the thing and disappeared. He put the thought aside for a moment though.

"You stay right there," Gordon said pointing directly at Batman. Jim pulled out a long distance radio from his duster, and switched it onto the frequency that the City Hall unit would have been using. Before even listening, Gordon spoke into it, keeping eye contact with Batman's white lensed cowl.

"City Hall. Sitrep." A half second of static, then a response.

"Ramirez, sir. We got him. Mayor's safe and Dent's on his way to holding."

"Good work, lieutenant."

"Actually sir...It wasn't us."

"Come again?"

"Umm, the uh Boy Wonder took down Dent, sir. Robin, I mean." Gordon cocked a look at Batman, a sly look of grudging respect. He switched the frequency again.

"Crime Alley, report."

"Shoulda seen it, chief. Some gal dressed as Batman swept right in and took care of him for us."

"Batgirl?"

"No way, sir. She was a lot more um...Well, more than Batgirl. Meaner, faster, and a red and black look to her."

"Ah, it's a new one Ryans. Batwoman."

"A new one?"

"Yep, try to keep up kid." Gordon turned his radio off, and began to stare Batman down.

"Really saved us tonight, I'll give you that. Just gotta ask though, why the dress up?"

"Sorry," Batman asked. Gordon pulled out his pipe, and filled it.

"Don't get me wrong, you're fast. Faster than him even. Smart too." Gordon lit his pipe, and looked at him through shining glasses. "But you are **no** Batman." The detectives around him looked at him in complete surprise.

"Jim, yer kiddin right? I mean, it's him," Bullock looked to Montoya, unsure. "Right?" Another voice interrupted the staredown between Gordon and this mystery Batman.

"No, Detective Harvey Bullock, he is not." All eyes turned to a stranger standing in open doorway of the warehouse, the shining light of sunrise coming in from behind him. He wore a long blue jacket over his white button up and black tie. A trilby sat squarely on his head, but most notable of all was his completely bare face. No eyes, nose, or even mouth, just a blank canvas of skin.

"And just who they hell are you," Montoya shouted. The man chuckled to himself.

"Now that...That is **The Question**. Think of me as a private investigator. Very private."

"I can vouch for him," the not Batman spoke. "He's with the League."

"Formerly," the faceless man responded. "Or, at least you would know that if you were the **real** Batman." He leaned his face up at this mystery Batman's daunting frame. The two shared a very bitter look, or at least Gordon guessed the faceless man was being bitter, a little hard to tell all things considered. "Doesn't really matter though," he continued, now so nonchalant he placed his hands in his pockets. "For now, you can play pretend that you're the Dark Knight. I mean hell, you really **flew** into the black and **gray, son.** "

Gordon knew a code when he heard one, but didn't say anything. Instead, the faceless man just continued his speech.

"So how's about this: You get your family together at my place in say… six hours. We have a **lot** to discuss. Trust me." Without a word, the not Batman pulled his grapple gun from his belt and repelled to through the open sunlight window above. "Ah...So typically theatrical. Anyhoo," he turned his attention to the three GCPD officers. "You three have a nice day." His cheek muscles seemed to raise, almost like he was smiling.

"Better the three of you just don't include me in your reports. Better to not tell the police that a fake Batman is running loose in Gotham so soon after the last one disappeared. Might send a...Negative influence."

"You saying we lie, bub," Bullock grunted.

"No, no. Nothing of the sort. I'm saying you tell the truth. That you were saved by Batman. It's what happened isn't it?"

"But you said-" but Montoya was interrupted.

"Let your commissioner decide, please." The faceless man cocked his head to one side. "You're Renee Montoya aren't you? Fascinating that today of all days is how we officially meet." She lowered a single eyebrow.

"Officially? You saying I've met you before?"

"Um...No, no I don't think I would...We'll be seeing each other again very soon though. Farewell all," and with that he started to make his way out into the light.

"Come on chief, I say we bring him in for questioning, sounds like that crook knows something." Gordon stayed silent as Montoya continued commenting after Bullock.

"And what did he mean by "Batman saved us"? He just said that-" Gordon blew from a final breath from his pipe, then dumped it under his shoe.

"Exactly that."

"Oh chief, come on. You heard that nut, it wasn't really Batman." Gordon started to make his way out of the building.

"You're right. Some kook from off the street told us that the **hero** who told me to defuse a bomb that could have leveled a city with nothing, but my **lighter** , wasn't the real Batman." Bullock caught up to the commissioner.

"You telling us to believe that was the REAL Batman?!"

"I'm not telling you what to believe, detective. I'm telling you what to report. That **Batman** saved the city, same as he always does."


	12. Chapter 12

Chapter Twelve

Slade Wilson stood crouched on a Manhattan rooftop,peering through a pair of binoculars. While not the tallest building along the pierside, it had the perfect vantage point of his target: Titan Tower. He'd pulled this op from one of several on the current Meta-Human hit list. Black-net site admins had been sending him jobs faster than he could complete them, which was perfect for business. With the Justice League gone, Slade could continue his career as Deathstroke the Terminator without having to constantly look over his shoulder.

Whether it was being security for Lex Luthor, assassinating Ted "Wildcat" Grant, or even accessing the Justice League's server room aboard the Watchtower, Deathstroke could do it all. It wasn't even about the morality of it all, the supposed great battle between good and evil. No, it was simpler than that. It was all about the money, and the skewed honor of being a contract killer. Not just any killer either. The best. Slade knew that he shouldn't be prideful, but when it wasn't pride when it was true. While he hadn't given himself the nickname of The Terminator, he'd definitely earned it.

What he was doing now was nothing more than clean up on that Watchtower op, just a final favor his employer had asked of him. It seemed this contract just never ended. First, his mysterious benefactor had sent him the Justice League ID card of one Kataar Hal, also known as Hawkman. They'd instructed Slade to go to certain coordinates and press the ID card with a preserved fingerprint, presumably from Kataar himself. How his employer had gotten this card and fingerprint were questions he didn't bother to ask, nor dwell on. It was a job, just like any other. After that he'd been teleported of all things onto the Justice League's secret orbital base, The Watchtower. Slade had been given directions of how to reach the League's server room, cautious at every turn that they could still be home. It's why **he'd** been hired, of course. For some reason, the Black-net believed that the Deathstroke was capable of fighting the entire Justice League. Fight, yes. Win? Well, not all at once, and not without some critical preparation.

Slade had used a cipher that his employer had sent to him that had undone even Cyborg's security measures. He'd listened to the Justice League's final mission recording, and had deleted the rest. Now only two copies of that recording remained, one he'd sent to his employer, and the final one was here.

Normally, Slade would have considered the job done, but his employer had made a small miscalculation. Whoever they were, they'd assumed that Slade would just use the teleporter to get back to Earth immediately afterwards. As it happened, he'd decided to stay just a little bit longer. Didn't make sense to leave the Justice League's unclaimed equipment up in space. Wouldn't be right to waste such helpful toys.

So there he sat, awaiting the call to infiltrate Titan Tower. He wasn't expected for another hour, of course, but he didn't get where he was in his career without doing recon. It was always necessary, in every operation, no matter how trivial, to be prepared. Titan Tower sat on a small island, maybe 200 yards in diameter, with a building that stood 5 stories tall. The top three stories extended outward along its x axis, giving the building its recognizable T shape. Even from here, Slade could see through the multipaned windows that made up the front view of the top floor. The entire building's front was made up of these windows, the core of this T being translucent with a clear view, a clean look into the lives of the young adults who lived inside. Even with the majority of the building's rooms coated in metal from the outside, Slade could still make out a significant amount of the buildings layout, before he'd even stepped foot inside.

Top floor, wide windows expand across the entirety of the face of the building. A living area, long couches, countertops near rear exit, implying a kitchen and dining area. Fourth floor, view expands only 75% the distance of the building's front face. Two rooms visible: a plain training room, featuring mats, punching bags, and boxing mitts. The other, a closed off ceramic tile room, perfectly measured to be equal in all dimensions. A cube room of white tile from floor to ceiling? A meditation room, no doubt for the telepath on the team, Omen. The only thing that was left visible was the strip of glass that made it's way down to the tower's base, revealing only the path the two elevators took up and down.

Slade didn't pretend that this mission was just another on his list. He'd had...Past experiences with The Titans. Ones where they'd managed to escape with their lives, to his discredit. He knew the explanations that could be given: they were younger, faster, and so on, but he knew the true reason. It was Nightwing, the team's leader, and Slade's former heir.

In an attempt to create the perfect replacement, the perfect partner, Slade had attempted to influence a young Robin to join him. His skills were unquestionable, his deductive mind, extraordinary. Even at the small age of sixteen, Robin had been able to go toe to toe with The Terminator himself, a feat he'd believed to be impossible for non-Meta humans. It'd only ever been done by one other before: The Batman himself. Slade had almost succeeded in his influence over the Boy Wonder, threatening the lives of the other Titans to do so. So long as Robin obeyed, the Titans would survive the various precautions Deathstroke had made to execute them at a moment's notice. It had worked for a time, but ultimately the plan had failed, due solely to his daughter's intervention.

Yes, his daughter. Rose "Xia" Wilson. The Ravager. She'd been his first attempt at a successor. She'd been a combat prodigy too, but she was no Robin, and she knew it. She'd betrayed him, and had saved the Titans. It seemed that Batman was a better at teaching conviction than he was. Slade could accept that. He was a better killer than Batman, after all. And with the Dark Knight gone and his daughter traveling the world in a vain effort to hide from her father, Deathstroke could return to the site of his greatest 'd finish his job, of course, delete the final copy of the League's recording, but with any luck Slade would create a much greater prize. Tonight, he would slay a Titan.


	13. Chapter 13

Chapter Thirteen

Dick Grayson peered across the the rainy rooftops to a shady apartment in Crime Alley. Even through the thinner lenses of the Batman cowl, he could still see that the windows weren't just covered in blinds, they'd been painted black. The Question must not have wanted anyone spying in on him, and for good reason. According to League files, The Question the fourth highest IQ on Earth, and was a chief informant for something called ARGUS. On the rare occasions Dick could remember, Bruce had regarded The Question with high esteem. Bruce had-...Bruce.

For just a second, Dick flashed back to that day. The day his parents were set to perform at Haley's Circus. They were known as the Flying Graysons, the world's greatest acrobats. They'd traveled across Europe together as a family with the circus, and that week had been the beginning of their American tour. It was supposed to be their final routine in Gotham, but instead...Instead the ropes had snapped. His parents had fallen to their deaths, no net to there to save them thanks to mobster interference. Turns out his parents lives were worth being cheated a grand by the circus ringleader. It was the worst day of his life, the day the Flying Graysons had fallen.

It was also the day he'd met the billionaire Bruce Wayne. Originally, young Dick Grayson had been cynical of Mr. Wayne's charity. He was just another money grabber trying to better his reputation, right? Well, as fate would have it, things turned out very differently. Bruce had offered to adopt Dick, after no one else would take him in. Orphanages in Gotham back then were always overcrowded, but Bruce had since found a way to make their lives better too, with a donation here and there. It was actually by chance that he'd learned Bruce had been Batman. One night in the study of Wayne Manor, Dick had found a bat stuck in the grandfather clock. Opening it to free the critter, he accidentally stumbled upon a secret passage that led down to none other than the Bat Cave itself. Months of training later, the Robin, the Boy Wonder was born.

It seemed like forever ago that Dick had seen the Batsuit in its glass case, white lensed eyes staring blankly back at him. It was a humbling experience, just gazing into those daunting eyes for the first time. No one had to be behind them, but Dick would always know who they belonged to. Bruce would always be The Batman, the guardian of Gotham. He was an impossible man to truly know, someone who had fought so many great fights. He'd saved the Earth dozens of times over with nothing, but his wits, body, and will. He was willing to give up anything-everything for the sake of his mission. And now...Now he was gone. And the only one that was left to replace him was that scared little boy at the circus.

Tears fell with the rain, as Dick shook himself back to the job. He had to live up to Bruce's legacy, despite how much he didn't want to be the one wearing the mantle. He could think of at least half a dozen others who would bear it better, but not a single other one that Bruce had trusted with it more. That was the problem with being taught detective skills by someone you lived with for years, you would pick up on what they thought of. Dick knew Batman had sent the final recording to him alone. There was no one in the world he trusted more, but was Dick good enough? Was he good enough to be The Batman?

There was no way to find out on this rooftop. Using Bruce's- no, **his** grapple gun, Batman swung to a fire escape adjacent to the boarded up window that housed The Question. He knew the apartment it belonged to was vacant, due to his recon, and lifted the window open into a dark wooden room.

As soon as he had stepped in, the light switched on. Pivoting in shocked response, Dick swung his cape around to face his assailant, fists raised for a fight.

"Please, take a seat," The Question cooed, motioning to a couch covered in dark stains. Stupid mistake, unlike his usual domino mask, Batman's cowl was equipped with infrared vision. He **should** have seen this coming. Still on edge, he regained his composure, but did not sit, eyes locked on The Question's blank face.

"Why-?"

"Am I in this vacant, plain, and otherwise unnoteworthy lodging instead of my own? For exactly that reason." He chuckled to himself. "Even the Great Batman did not expect it."

Grayson scowled.

"Why'd you bring me here? I don't have time for games."

"You're more right than you know." He pulled a long roll of paper from his blue trench coat, rolling it out on the glossy dining table. With only a second's glance, Dick recognized the image. It was a layout of Arkham Asylum.

"I need your help." Grayson's eyes went back to Question, standing as tall as he could.

"Why on Earth would you want to break into Arkham?" Question sighed.

"If you're going to play at being the World's Greatest Detective, you might want to buff up on deductive reasoning, boy." Grayson took a wide step towards The Question, standing eye to eye, so to speak.

"I **am** Batman."

"To the public, yes. But we are not the masses, swallowing the lies of the media. We both know **several** unspoken truths, not the least of which being that you are not Bruce Wayne." A rod of fear ran through Grayson to his core.

"Bruce Wayne is NOT Batman."

"Not currently, but answer me this, who else could afford the tools and vehicles necessary to even **be** Batman? Who is capable? Now tell me, who among them has been missing for ten days now? Now who among that small number went missing for over nearly twenty years "traveling the world"? Now that...That is the question?"

There was a moment of silence, a tense second or two where Dick was tempted throw him across the room. He kept a cool head though, returning his attention to The Question's map of Arkham.

"You need a prisoner then. One who isn't getting out on parole anytime soon. You're on a time table aren't you?"

"Correction: **We** are on a time table. Ever heard of something called The Green?"

"It's the mystical forces of nature on Earth, provides the spiritual auras of the planet that produce life. In short, it's magic."

"Yes. And it's avatar is missing. Taken in the same calamity that took the Justice League. In order for there to be a magical balance in the world, there must be a replacement. Someone with a direct connection to nature-"

"Ivy. You're trying to break out Poison Ivy." There was a tone of uncertainty in Dick's voice, but The Question nodded in affirmation.

"Yes. Pamela Isley is the only one on Earth capable of defending humanity from the forces of The Rot."

"The Rot?"

"It's the polar opposite of The Green. While The Green is growth, The Rot is decay, and believe me when I tell you that they've noticed Swamp Thing's absence." Dick couldn't believe why he hadn't thought of this before. He hadn't even bothered to see who else had disappeared, he'd been so obsessed with getting the League back that-

"I leave it to you then," The Question said, turning for the door.

"What?" He turned again, the map still laying over the table.

"Ivy faces the death penalty, slated to be administered at Arkham 39 hours from now. You'll need to infiltrate the Asylum, free her, ad convince her to save the world from the minions of death and decay. Should be no trouble for **Batman**."

"What will you be doing while I'm storming the castle? Watching from the sidelines?"

"No." His voice was cold as steel. "I'm going to be too busy in the next twenty four hours to help you. If anything, I'm afraid I'd be a liability." Picking his hat off the coat rack, The Question started to unlatch the numerous locks and bolts holding the door closed. "Oh-And don't bother looking for me before Isley is free."

"Why's that?"

"Because I'm trying to compile a list. The list of those who were taken. Sadly, it ranges beyond just the Justice League and billionaires. With luck, in another week I'll know every name of those who were taken. Slow work, I know, but it pays to double check these sort of things." A list? That was exactly what he needed! A full analysis of those who were missing in action. From that, Grayson could tell who was left and create a proper grid of heroes protecting new boundaries. He could recreate the League.

"I want you to let me know as soon as you're done with this list," Grayson interrupted, pulling out a spare communicator from his utility belt. "Use this to call me directly with any important updates." The Question accepted it, but gave another disappointed sigh

"That's the difference between you and I, son. For me, every update is an important the future, try to think where **he** stood on these issues. Closer to you, or closer to me." With that The Question went out the door, slamming it behind him.

There was so much on the playing field now. The Green, Isley's execution, and most importantly The Question's list. It could change everything, a list of every hero and billionaire who was-Wait! Billionaire?

"Alfred," Grayson spoke into his cowl's communicator, knowing he'd been monitoring Dick this entire time.

"Yes sir?"

"I need you to cross check the Bat-computer for any multi-millionaires or billionaires who have gone missing over the last two weeks."

"Checking now sir…...Ah yes, here it is. One name, sir. It's-oh my."

"Alfred?"

"One Oliver Queen, sir. Has not been seen since the, well, the day of the League's disappearance."

"Thanks, Alfred." Dick heard a police siren whizz by the apartment building, and without hesitation sped out the window, and rappelled across the street with his grapple gun. Tuning in, the police frequency brought him up to speed. Another armed robbery, followed by grand theft auto. Another run of the mill crime, but one he should be dealing with nonetheless. Still, he couldn't help, but think of Star City being without The Green Arrow. It made him wonder who else was taken, and in what other ways Earth was vulnerable to invisible threats.


	14. Chapter 14

**Author's Note: Hey everyone. Sorry it took me so long for this Chapter. I usually want to keep a steady pace of one every couple of days, bu this week I was really kept away. I promise in the next couple of weeks to come I will have a LOT more time on my hands to type away. Again, please leave a Review below, I really want to hear from you all. If you want to keep up to date on the story, please Follow, and all that. I know I sound like an Ad, but honestly I really do want to hear what you all think, especially with this one right here. With that said, enjoy.**

Chapter Fourteen

Even in his sleep, Chas Chandler could detect that warm familiar smell. The aroma of ashes and cinders. There was a fire, and it was in the House of Mystery. Throwing his blankets to the side, he jolted himself up from his afternoon nap and rushed towards the indoor balcony of the second floor. He took everything in, the rustic bookshelves that lined the walls, the several shelves dedicated to priceless magical artifacts, and the various piles of scrolls and miscellaneous tomes that had been haphazardly tossed aside by its only magical occupant. Yes, the House of Mystery was a supernatural library, a roaming haven for the occult. It truly had anything, including John fucking Constantine burning a rug in the middle of the room.

"John!" Chas leapt over the railing, down a ten foot drop, and roughly landed on the wooden floor boards. "Are you trying to burn this place to the ground!?" Smoke blew past both their faces, making Chas struggle for breath. John wasn't listening, he was too busy performing some sort of incantation. Chas gave a sharp huff of breath, and looked around for one of his jackets, preferably one he didn't like too much.

Grabbing one of his rattier brown ones, Chas pushed past John and attempted to beat the fire out of the rug, knowing full well how easily it would kill them both if the floorboards rose up. In all honesty, Chas wasn't too thrilled about the idea of John killing him every swing the fire just seemed to flicker, showing only the slightest signs of even noticing all of Chas' efforts.

"Save your breath , mate," Constantine finally pitched in. "It's a ritual flame. Won't escape the rug, and sure as hell won't burn this place down. Damn House of Mystery is a magical fortress, ain't no way a little ritual like this 'ill tear her up." Chas coughed through the perpetual smoke.

"So -chuh- what? You were just gonna light this without telling me?" John shrugged.

"Told me not to wake you. Said you had the midnight shift."

"So you thought the best thing for you to do was to light a FIRE?"

"Come now, taxi drivers like you need their beauty sleep. And be honest, have you ever know **me** to do anything that reckless?" Chas' disgruntled face didn't change as he stepped away from the rug.

"Just about every day of your life, asshole." John nodded to the side, thinking about it.

"Fair point. Besides, what do you care, fire couldn't hurt you anyway."

"Just because I come back from the dead, doesn't mean it doesn't **hurt** , John!"

"Yeah, nasty side effect of immortal, I wager." Chas was about to give him an earful, when John snapped his fingers and with a loud crack transformed the aggravated flame into a wide spray of tiny embers. The cinders fell in a gentle pattern, aligning themselves with one another to create a to-scale map of the Earth. Continental lines were drawn with these fiery dots, all landing perfectly within the confines of the rug.

"How-?"

"Someday, Chas, you'll understand how magic works." He looked at John sardonically.

"Why, a master like you going to teach me?" John shot him a sarcastic smile, but continued.

"No, you'll just understand it. Very different from using. Now let's see what we have here." John crouched down to analyze his creation, a hand on his unshaven chin. It was then that Chas realized that John looked more unkempt than usual. The little facial hair he had seemed longer, the bags under his eyes were darker, and even his face look more skeletal.

"John, have you been eating,"Chas asked, putting a hand on his friend's shoulder. Sure, they pissed each other off from time to time, but at the end of the day they relied on each other. John would cast the magic, and Chas would...Well, Chas would drive the car.

"What?"

"You look, well, you look worse than usual."

"It's nothing, mate. Just lost a little sleep is all."

"The nightmares?" John stayed silent, rubbing pieces of the embers in together, then tracing circles with them. "John, I know you think you can just forget what's happened, but-"

"Chas, unless you really want to open the bag of flaming shite that is my life, please shut the fuck up."

"I'm just trying to help."

"And I'm just trying to figure out where the bloody hell everyone went!" With John's outburst, the ashes flared up in up in several spots on the rugs world map. Chas hadn't seen John this mad in years, since the night he'd failed to save someone. Someone important to him. Chas hadn't been there himself, and John never really talked to him about things, but sometimes in his sleep he'd whisper. Something about a girl named Astra. If Chas had to guess, she hadn't been much older than ten.

"John…" Chas was about to bring her up, but thought against it. "Just tell me what you're doing okay." Constantine cracked his fingers, and took a deep breath through his nose, blowing it out low across the very same embers that had flared up just a second earlier. This made them all as beams of light at exact coordinates across the map.

"Zoroastrian locator spell. Take any Persian rug, light a fire for Ahura Mazda, then channel a little magic into it. Suddenly poof, you got yourself the location of just about anyone you're looking for." Chas, being very non-magic, didn't quite understand what John was doing.

"So, you were trying to find someone?"

"Two someones actually," he said in that same cocky accent of his. "Zoroastrians are dualist, y'see, so the spell works on two individuals so long as you have something else to burn that represents them. Something that has to do with your most basic feelings towards them." John reached into his long jacket and pulled out what looked like a bag of weed and a vial of white liquid.

"Who are you looking for then? Anyone I'd know?"

"Yeah, actually. Remember Swamp Thing?"

"The big green guy made out of trees and vines?"

"That's the one."

"You think he disappeared with the League?"

"Hard to say, but he was part of them for a time, may be there's a connection."

"So that why you're burning weed in the house?" John chuckled.

"Yeah, funny story. Big green actually made this particular batch, grew it himself. Imagine that."

"OK, so that's a symbol of the good times you shared with him, alright. So who's the vial for?" John turned back to the map, a little embarrassed.

"Do you remember that time I went down to investigate that stage performer in Vegas?"

"I think so. What was her name, Z something?"

"Zatanna Zatara. Turns out she was using her arcane abilities for shows on the strip. Lovely figure that one."

"So what's her symbol?" John turned back to the vial and shrugged at Chas almost apologetically.

"No. You didn't."

"What can I say mate, she was into,well...Tantric rituals."

"That's just gross." John grumbled something inaudible, but Chas didn't push it. He would have pushed it further, but realized that John hadn't chosen these ingredients at random. They needed to be things that John associated with his relationships towards these two at their most basic level. It took a lot of self reflection to realize that how you truly saw someone. Smoking, sex, and a little magic thrown in for flavor. Nothing could have summarized John Constantine more.

"Alright, here it goes." Chas watched as Constantine's eyes rolled back. A wind coursed out of him, some spellcasting energies that Chas had felt a few times in the past when he'd been this close to John. Both objects, one in each of his hands started to glow with a light non unlike the fire itself. John was speaking in latin from the sound of it, as the arcane wind around the house began to twirl around the two of them.

The vial in John's hand shattered, and Chas could smell the scents of both plastic and weed burn up. Now with a ball of fire in each hand, he brought his hands gently to the carpet, and turned his palms facing down. Pressing on the rug, John stopped reciting the ritual, causing all of the precise beams of light to flash brightly. There were easily over a dozen of them, but one by one they started to fade away. John's eyes were focused, as Chas watched the lights disappear. He noticed a large clot of beams in the middle of the ocean from the looks of it, but they too dissipated. After about twenty seconds, all the lights were gone, and with them the embers creating a map. Chas stood over a crouched over John, the room filling with the aroma of smoke and pot.

"Okay...What does that mean?" John stood, turning on a dime as he put a cigarette between his lips, a frown on his face.

"Means Z and Swamp Thing are missing. They aren't on Earth right now." John lit his smoke with a small fire he created from the tip of his thumb.

"Is that unusual for people like you? Magic users, I mean?" He shrugged.

"Not really, but it can't be coincidence they left the same time as the League."

"So you **do** think it's connected?"

"Never said I didn't. Looks to me like someone wants the League out of the way, even them part time members."

"Wait, didn't you help the League once or twice?"

"Side job, mate. Didn't deputize me or anything."

"But you did help, and you told me you saw a green wave across the sky, something only you could see. Happened the same day the League went missing."

"Yes Chas, I already figured they were connected. I checked up on all the usual magical thorns in my arse. Papa Midnite, Felix Faust, hell, I even checked up on Gary sodding Lester."

"Lester? That punk who joined your teenage angst band way back when?"

"It was a metal band, and he's not a punk, he's an addict. An addict who just happens to dabble in the arcane. Checked his rehab ward to make sure he hadn't done this, even accidentally."

"You think he could have?"

"The same way I think an ant could lift a Hummer, but all the same I had to check. Everywhere else I went turned up to be a loose end. I even tried my contacts **down below.** "

"Wait, you mean Hell? John, are you nuts?!" Chas took him by his collar, splitting his cigarette to crumbling pieces. "You know how dangerous it is to summon demons!"

John's face was as relaxed as it always was, but Chas knew behind the facade of the con man was a man who understood the meaning of regret.

"Don't lecture **me** on demons, mate." John shook out of the much larger man's grasp. "I didn't summon, just called one was all. You know him actually. Remember that red head with the white streak from poker night?"

"You mean the creepy guy who would fold every hand? Wait, he was a demon?"

"Half actually. Jason Blood, cursed with immortality and the worst case of cosmic transformation disorder I have ever seen. See normally he's a pretty quiet, albeit creepy sod,but if you summon his other form...Well, let's just say there's a reason hell didn't want him down there with them anymore."

"So, what you just called him through some sort of creepy gem or mirror you had lying around?"

"Close. Cell actually." John stunted a smile, but Chas continued his bemused expression.

"John, just tell me something. Z, Swamp Thing, the League, the green flash in the sky, just tell me: What's going on right now?" Constantine gave a wry shrug.

"Couldn't say. No demons are involved, or no known villains have taken the credit. Hell, not even any of the dark spellcasters **I** know for that matter, and that's saying something."

"So, wait-were those beams of light all spellcasters on Earth?"

"Sure were."

"So who were those folks in the ocean?"

"If I had to guess, Atlanteans. Underwater magic or something." Chas's face contorted in confusion, which John immediately tried to calm. "Chas, I don't know everyone on the planet who can fling a spell. The League had a list the length of my arm of other magical villains who could have…" He trailed off, eyes distant.

"John? John." Constantine shook his head, suddenly more awake.

"Sorry, just realized that I have a few more leads." He went over to his shelves, grabbing maybe half a dozen of small trinkets and artifacts.

"Where do you think you're going?"

"There is only one other soul who can help me solve this. Kent Nelson."

"So you just expect me to drive you wherever he lives?"

"No Chas." John let out a heavy sigh, dead tired of explaining everything to the only one who cared to stick around him for so long. "Listen, Kent Nelson is Dr. Fate, the sole magical protector of Order for Earth. His soul is intertwined to a magical helmet called Naabu."

"What the-" Joh blew past the interruption.

"Keep up! The helmet is the source of Dr. Fate's magic power."

"But-"

"Shh! The helmet is the absolutely the most powerful magical artifact I have ever seen, but it has been missing since Nelson stopped working for the Justice Society, a team that predates the League by decades."

"So, wait, you're telling me that the most powerful good spellcaster disappeared long before the League did."

"He's not good, he's Order, and he didn't disappear he went into exile. Felt the world was well protected by the likes of Superman and such."

"So you're trying to find this Dr. Fate to find out who started the League's disappearance?"

"Close, mate. I'm trying to find someone to help me find the helmet." Chas's head hurt trying to put all of this together.

"Ok, so just as a recap: This Dr. Fate is powered by his magic helmet. He helps the Justice Society. Justice League shows up after the Society retires. The helmet or whatever goes into exile and you're trying to find someone to find the helmet to…What? Uncover the mystery of the magic wave in the sky?"

"Just about sums it up, yeah."

"Well shit...Who are you looking for then?"

"The only one of his old Society buddies that's still kicking. An old boxer by the name of Ted Grant. Wish me luck, mate."

"Wait, you're not asking me to drive you?" John held up one of his trinkets, something that looked a little bit like a compass with a crystal sliver on it.

"Nope. See you later, Chas." Before he could get in another word, a black vacuum of space seemed to warp John away.

Chas stood there for a moment, taking in the room. Relics had been tossed aside by the arcane gust of wind, not to mention the countless loose papers that had spread out everywhere. The carpet Chas had remembered buying at an antique shop for top dollar was now singed on the floor, it's original design hardly recognizable. With a single sarcastic comment to himself, Chas caved and went back to bed.

"Thanks, John. Real help you are."


	15. Chapter 15

**Author's Note: I want to apologize for absence recently. I hit sort of a block, that I really can't explain, but I assure you that I am dedicated to this story. I have big plans for the future that I want to share with all of you. I know I have said it in the past, but if you me to know you like the story, hit all them Favorite, and Follow buttons, and be sure to send me review of what you think. I read them all, and I DO know how to take criticism. If you're confused by characters, teams, or even continuity, I was thinking of devoting all of the next page for just that. Let me know what you think of that idea in a PM or a review. Thank you so much, and again I hope you enjoy.**

 **[For Official DC Rebirth readers: I have changed the writings of Detective Comics 934-940 in the following ways.**

 **1) Tim Drake aka Red Robin is still very much alive and not in the clutches of Mr. Oz, as you could probably tell in Chapter 2**

 **2) I changed the cast of the current Bat Family slightly. I took out Clayface and Batwing, and am probably not going to include Duke Thomas either. The reasons for this are primarily to keep the lost of characters I have somewhat concise, while also doing justice to characters I do know.**

 **3) Kate Kane's father is NOT in jail, and the Colony doesn't exist.**

 **4)The Bat family operates out of the Batcave, NOT the Belfry.**

 **Again, these are just for reader's keeping up with DC : Detective Comics Rebirth, so if you haven't picked these up, don't even worry about it and enjoy.**

Chapter Fifteen

Kate Kane stood atop a gargoyle, perched high over Gotham City. Her black and red uniform hid her well enough in the night, but she didn't want to have to stay in one place for too long. Every night this week it had been the same, high class meta-humans or criminals trying to terrorize the people of Gotham. They thought that the city was suddenly weak without Batman, but she had news for them. She was Gotham's new protector, and unlike Batman, she didn't work independently. Before he'd disappeared, Bruce had had her train a team of what was considered the "Bat-Family". What he saw as a family, she saw as unit. Kate Kane was a soldier, first and foremost, and didn't have time to watch over children. To her surprise however, they all proved to be capable in one way or another.

Tim Drake, the Red Robin, was an unrivaled detective and a technological genius. He was a prodigy, and the only former Robin in her memory who didn't treat the title as a thrill or a game. Red Robin was a prodigy mentally, plain and simple, and had received strong basic combat training as well. For now, he was serving as Batwoman's second, the same way Kate had acted as Batman's.

Stephanie Brown, also known as Spoiler. Daughter of Cluemaster, and damn near as tricky. She was clever, and definitely had a deductive mind, but lacked true discipline. In terms of combative skills, she was a joke, next to no evident experience. She was without a doubt the team's weakest link in Batwoman's eyes. Not only that, but she was also dating Tim. Teenagers.

Jean-Paul Valley, also known as Azrael. Vigilante for the religious sect calling itself The Order of Saint Dumas. He's competent enough in all combat aspects, but after years of subliminal training by the Order, it's hard to tell where his loyalties lay. Before, he'd wanted to train directly beneath Batman, admiring his skills and determination. He felt that Batman was a worthy model to sculpt himself after, and wanted to inherit the mantle upon his passing. Azrael was beyond shocked upon hearing of his absence, and coming to some cosmic conclusion, thought it better to leave the mantle be, more than could be said for some.

Cassandra Cain, also known as Orphan. Daughter of David Cain, a deranged lunatic who raised her to read people's bodies the way children are taught to read their first language. She is nearly mute, but could potentially fight for the entire team. Batman himself had even told Kate that if it ever came down to it, Orphan would probably kill him. Kate would have disagreed that Bruce could have handled a sixteen year old, but after she'd seen Orphan in action, it was hard to argue. The girl was relentless, and speaking of which…

Damian Wayne, the fourth and current Robin. Son of the Batman. Grandson of Ras al Ghul, the leader of the League of Assassins. From his birth, Ras had trained the boy to take over the League, filling his mind with images of glory and violence. Ras wanted to cleanse the world of crime the only way he knew how, death. Damian fell to the same level, killing dozens of Ras's enemies before his mother Talia, stole him away to Bruce. The former lovers agreed that Damian would be safer with Bruce, and using his assassin's skills he became Robin.

Damian was rough, wild, and hardly listens to instructions, which is why recently he set out on his own to create his own team, the Teen Titans. He thought by copying Nightwing's example of creating the team The Titans, that he could find a greater understanding of his place in the world. Kate doubted it, the only reason he was worth mentioning was because of his insistence on helping Gotham, his way. Damian would routinely intervene on Kate's operations, claiming that his father would have done things differently than her. He was a grieving child, she had to remind herself. A grieving child who was nothing short of an unnecessary distraction that she couldn't afford to deal with while the city was losing its mind. She hoped he wouldn't make an appearance tonight, like so many others.

Lightning struck behind her, as a warm rain began to pour. She stood tall, all of Gotham beneath her. She knew the mission,it was the same as it always was, Batman or no. Save the city. Save the people.

"Comm check," she commanded sternly.

"Red Robin, check."

"Spoiler, check."

"Azrael,check."

"...Check," Orphan practically whispered.

"Alright people, look alive. I've paired you to specific districts of Gotham. Red, Azrael: you two have Founder's Island. There are whispers of some organization looking to hit Ace Chemicals. Watch it close."

"Whose intel?"Red Robin asked reflexively, but still within his rights.

"Underworld informants, dirty cops, and clean detectives doing their jobs for once. Good intel, rest assured. Spoiler, Orphan: I want you two at the Mayor Sharp's like these, we get tons of reports of suspected assassins. Most of it is nothing, but some major names have been dropped. Names like Bronze Tiger and Lady could be nothing, I need you both by his side none the less."

"Wait," Stephanie interrupted. "Are you saying that there are only two threats tonight? That's a relief."

"I'm not saying that at all, Spoiler. I'm saying that after assessing all of the predictions for tonight, along with the sources the information came from, I figured the most likely districts you'd be needed at. I sent you each where I thought your individual skills would be best put to use."

"But, we aren't covering everywhere," Red Robin asked solemnly. "We're going to miss someone aren't we?"

"There are gaps, yes, but we need to focus. I sent you to where the clearest danger to Gotham is. I'll have a secondary objective sent to Red and Azrael, once you two are done at Ace Chemicals. Spoiler and Orphan are to stay with the mayor."

"That's such-"

"The last thing any of us need is to abort a mission to pick up your slack, Spoiler. We can't get distracted tonight, reports say it's going to be the worst night Gotham has seen since **he** was last in town."

"...Who?" Orphan was new, so she hadn't seen what **he'd** done. Who he'd hurt.

"No one, Cass, just focus like Batwoman says and we'll get through this," Stephanie cooed. Kate took a breath. As much as she wanted them to be soldiers, they were still kids too.

"Everyone in position," she asked, trying to get them more alert.

"We're all set," Red Robin responded. "Where will you be?"

"Boardwalk, we don't have enough people to pair off everywhere. It's just a suspicious shipping anomaly."

"So you're going to the least dangerous spot? Some brave leader you are."

"Can it Spoiler. It **should** be nothing, but if it is something then it'll likely be the worst thing to happen tonight. I'll keep you updated if-"

"Hey, don't keep us in suspense. What're you dealing with?"

"Just focus on your objective, Red." She wasn't keeping them in suspense, she was compartmentalizing. Kate didn't want to worry the team if it wasn't necessary. If they'd known what this could be, **who** it could be, then they'd all have followed her with reckless abandon. Kate prayed it wouldn't get as bad tonight as she knew it could be.

Batwoman leapt from her perch, another strike of lightning behind her. As she fell with the rain, she waited until her body was just beneath the next tallest building and pulled out her grapple gun. She pulled back the trigger, and only a moment later was launched upwards by the sheer momentum of her line. She caught her boots on the edge of the rooftop, kicked off the edge, turned midair, then spread her cape out wide. The effect was her cape catching the upward draft of the wind like a sail, sending her soaring.

It was a rough glide in the heavy rain, each pelleting her cape like a series of tiny drumbeats. Tap tap tap they went, the rhythm of nature trying to fight against her. She'd gone through a lot in her life: her mother's death, her dishonorable discharge, even her lost year. Even her training with Batman. She'd seen that through in an attempt to follow in her father's footsteps of being the perfect soldier. Only a few years ago had he pointed her to follow in Batman's footsteps, because to him, the perfect soldier **was** Bruce Wayne. It didn't take long for Kate to figure out that little secret. After all, Martha Wayne had formerly been Martha Kane, her aunt. This officially made her Batman's cousin. No pressure.

Batwoman reached Gotham's Boardwalk, where a large cargo ship sat in the otherwise desolate bay. The boardwalk was decorated in several amusement park attractions along the pier, game booths, roller coasters, and even a ferris wheel, all of which had been shut for many years. It seemed the city didn't like funding the Amusement mile when its mascot painted over the entrance was a giant clown with red lips and green hair. Kate put thoughts of the past aside and went to work.

She knew the ship was not scheduled to be here, making her whispers of a new player in town even more likely. Nothing was confirmed yet, she noted. It could have been just a stray captain who got bad directions. Unlikely, but still possible. Kate knew she couldn't just leave, knowing her intel could be positive. She rappelled up the backside of the freighter and crouched over its roof. Pulling out a pair of infrared binoculars, she scanned the deck for passengers. No one. The ship seemed abandoned, had they already left?

Gunfire rattled from inside the ship, metallic cracks as bullets ricocheted and dented into the interior of the hull. Batwoman threw herself backwards out of instinct, but nothing around her had changed. The unseen shooter had not been firing at her, it was coming from inside the ship. An internal dispute?

"Team, Status report?" Red Robin responded first.

"Your intel was right, looks like at least two dozen goons heading inside Ace Chemicals. All are wearing the same patch, but it's hard to see from here. Looks like a blackbird, but not the same as Penguin's gang."

"Can you handle it?"

"Oh please, these guys?"

"Red. Can you?" He gave a small sigh, forgetting for a just a moment he wasn't working with Batman.

"Yeah, Azrael and I can take them down. Already sent a call to GCPD. Dispatch is on the way."

"Good. Spoiler?"

"Nothing yet, but Orphan's getting restless. There's a fire three blocks away and jumping over there would only take a few-"

"Not an option. Stay with the Mayor. For all you know it's a distraction."

"But-"

"I said stay put. Fire Department is on their way. It's their job. Stay put."

"Yes Ma'am." Spoiler hadn't even tried to hide her bitterness.

"I'm about to head into a cargo freighter along the Boardwalk. Vessel ID puts it as the King Brown. Gunshots have been heard inside. My comm won't work once I'm side. Red Robin, you have situational control until I return."

"Is that really the smartest idea?" Azrael inquired.

"No, but I need to see if reports of this mystery player are true."

"You mean **our** mystery player. **You** already know and won't tell **us** who they might be."

"Spoiler, when I get back you and I are going to have a very serious chat about the chain of command."

"I can't wait."

"Batwoman out." Kate slid off the roof and search the ship's main cabin for an entrance. The main door was locked, and while she could have easily broken it down or unlocked it, she instead chose to take an alternative entrance. Only problem was the other way into the ship's interior from a cramped air vent. Batwoman could have chosen to walk the length of the ship to find another way inside, but she decided that the vent would suffice. The assumed, of course, it would take her where she wanted to go.

Batwoman tore the sheet metal covering of the vent from its frame and crawled inside. Once inside, she could feel a cool draft and the echoes of indistinct yelling. There was definitely some sort of fight going on deeper inside the ship. She came upon a slitted opening in the vent which overlooked a large cargo bay filled with shipping containers and wooden crates. It felt quiet for a second, so Kate took a chance and pulled out her therma binoculars again. Switching them to their standard setting, she could make out a word stamped in bold letters on the side of the crates themselves. [VENOM]

"Damn," Batwoman whispered to herself. There was only one person who ever used the Venom drug, and it seemed her informants had been right. Bane was back in Gotham City.

"Get him!" someone in the room below yelled. Gunfire began riddling the crates beneath Kate, as she saw the gunmen sprint across her field of vision. She could see something on their shoulders, it looked like a gang insignia. A black figure-No, it was a blackbird. Probably the same one Red Robin had seen at Ace Chemicals. Bane hadn't just arrived it Gotham, Kate realized with no small amount of fear. He'd been setting up his operation for a while now, and only just now was it coming into effect.

With various grunts and groans, the gunmen were thrown back into Kate's view. The sound of a very heavy pistol went off, as one of the bodies jerked. Then again with the second. The third and final man started crawling backwards, begging and pleading for their life. The shooter then walked into view and, to Kate's surprise, she recognized him.

The Red Hood stood over the gangster,and pulled the trigger without a second thought. He walked out of her view, Jason Todd, the second Robin, and the man who Batwoman considered to be Bruce's greatest mistake.


	16. Interlude

Interlude

Earth. So feeble and loud without their guardian heroes- The Justice League. An analysis has been completed of their forces. Their current potential is as such:

The Titans:

Nightwing- An acrobat and detective trained by Batman

Donna Troy- An Amazonian from Themyscira, birthplace of Wonder Woman

Arsenal- An sidekick archer turned addict turned vigilante

Tempest- former protege to Aquaman, now serves as an Atlantean representative

Omen- A Telepath with a Psychic mind.

"New" Flash- A temporal anomaly. Speedster. The Flash's former student.

The New Teen Titans

Robin- The Son of The Batman, Grandson of Ras Al Ghul. Child Assassin

Starfire- Princess from the planet Tamaran.

Beast Boy- Green changeling, can morph into any creature on Earth

Kid Flash- The newest speedster in Central City.

Raven- Telekinetic and psychic daughter of the demon lord Trigon

Aqualad- Adolescent Atlantean, son of the villain Black Manta

The Suicide Squad

Amanda Waller- Ruthless task master of the Suicide Squad

Rick Flag- Military commando, Navy Seal, and Squad leader

Deadshot- Expert Marksman, claims to Never Miss a Shot

Killer Croc- An animalistic berserker with severe psychological damage

Harley Quinn- The Crown Queen of Gotham Crime. PhD in Psychology.

Enchantress- A mystical spirit attached to a graphic designer

Captain Boomerang- A geometric mind within the body of a degenerate

The "Bat-Family"

Batwoman- Ex soldier turned Gotham vigilante

Red Robin- World's Greatest Detective, formerly Second Greatest

Orphan- The most physically capable person on the planet

Spoiler- Gotham Vigilante, daughter of villain Cluemaster

Azrael- Crusader and Guardian of the Order of St. Dumas

Current List of Unregistered Threats

John Constantine- Acclaimed Master of the Dark Arts and Exorcist

Lex Luthor- Billionaire turned villain turned attempted hero

The Question- Conspiracy Theorist an occasional crackpot informant

Vandal Savage- Leader of a group of undetermined super villains

Deathstroke- World's deadliest assassin. Can use an estimated 90% of brain capacity

Red Hood- Ex-sidekick turned anti-heroic killer

Bane- Leader of the island of Santa Prisca, the Man who Broke the Bat

CONCLUSION: A further analysis of Earth's forces is required. Current analysis inconclusive of armada's chance of success.

ALERT! Intergalactic bound vessel deemed threat adjusting course for Earth.

AlERT CONCLUSION: Earth's guardians have created just as many enemies as lives they have saved. This potential threat is adjusting its course for the Sol system.

QUERY: Will Earth's defenders last against this unknown danger?

QUERY CONCLUSION: The query is, by its nature, irrelevant.

FIRST CONCLUSION: Earth's defenders will fall during this intergalactic attack.

Chance of FIRST CONCLUSION: Unknown.

SECOND CONCLUSION:Earth's forces will survive.

Chance of SECOND CONCLUSION: Unknown.

In any event, more than enough of Earth's culture will survive this event so that this system can add them to this system, The Brainiac Collective.

Until then, this system shall watch and wait. Earth may very well be key to our FINAL CONCLUSION.


	17. Chapter 16

Chapter Sixteen

Jason Todd walked over the three bodies, all gangsters wearing the insignia of Bird, Bane's chief lieutenant. They were criminals from the prison island of Santa Prisca, now a micronation completely controlled by Bane himself. They were all killers, only the most sadistic and monstrous of men were ever sent to Santa Prisca. When Bane had taken over the island, he'd killed the guards and took the grounds as his own personal fortress, waiting for someone worthy enough to challenge him. That man had been Batman.

The Red Hood hadn't even been looking for Bane, in fact he'd been tracking Black Mask's weapons shipments everywhere from Bludhaven to Star City. The trail had been long and arduous, and his only breadcrumbs had been the bodies behind him. It wasn't Bruce's way to kill, he knew that. He also knew that Bruce's way didn't work. Criminals needed to be punished, especially if an organized criminal like Black Mask was working with a monster like Bane.

As he approached one of the larger shipping crates to confirm its contents, a venting panel shot down from above him. He tucked and rolled in response, not in an act of evasion, but simply one of response. He leveled his handgun at the intruder, a tall and strong looking woman with long red hair. It was Katherine Kane, the Batwoman.

"Jason." She sternly greeted, nodding at the gun. He didn't lower it, eyes hard as steel.

She must've realized he didn't consider her a friend the same way Bruce had. Sure, they all wanted to save Gotham, but to Jason there was only one way to do that. Crime couldn't be stopped, it had to be controlled. Kill enough murderers and their friends realize that justice is real, and it isn't found in court. It's found in vengeance.

"Kate." He responded, just as harshly. "What do you want?" The air was very still, and to her credit, Kate didn't show any signs of fear staring down the barrel of a gun.

"I was following a lead. It led me here." There eyes never left their lock, both knowing that the other could turn this into a fight very quickly.

"Lead got a name?"

"No."

"So another crook then? Some two-bit crime boss looking for diplomatic immunity." His tone was venting his frustration at the system, losing that quiet standoff he'd captured.

She played along.

"You know the system so well, don't you?"Her voice didn't change a pitch.

"Better than you."

"You think I don't understand wanting to kill?"

"That's why you came down, isn't it? You were hidden up there pretty well. I'll be honest, you could've jumped be if you'd wanted to and I never would have seen it coming. But you didn't, so you must want something. What? To ask me to turn myself in?" She took a cooling breath.

"You killed them after all."

"And you wouldn't have?"

"It's not our way."

"Yeah? Well what exactly is our way?!" Rage erupted as Jason reaffirmed his grip. "Letting drug lords distribute to schools? Letting thugs steal people off the street? Or what about allowing goddamn clowns to kill in cold blood?!

"So that's what this is all about."

"Oh don't you fucking start."

"You're still mad at him for not killing The Joker. You wanted revenge for your death, but you know Batman doesn't kill. None of us do. It's just you."

"Face it, the path of righteous justice and pacifism doesn't work. Their kind doesn't respond to it!"

"So this somehow makes you better? The only one he ever trained to fall so low. You're such a disgrace."

"Oh don't act so high and mighty. Don't think for one second that you're **him** , because you **never** will be." Kate took a bold step towards him. Jason shook the gun.

"I'll do it, Kate. Swear to God."

"If that were true, you already would have." Another step, she'd closed half the distance now, making them no more than a yard away from each other. He knew what she was going to try next.

"Are you really about to take me on?" Her eyes squinted venomously.

"You can always put the gun down." Jason smirked, then lowed the gun. He put his hand up as a sly shrug, finger just behind the trigger.

"You got me. You're right." He twirled the gun back into his grip and fired a shot into her thigh. He immediately followed it up with front kick to her stomach, sending her sprawling onto the floor. "I **can** put it down, but this city deserves better than than. It deserves better than you."

She mumbled something inaudible as she lay face down, blood now beginning to pool from her wound. Red Hood took a step closer, almost pitying the once decorated military officer.

"Oh what? Wishing you had just stayed hidden?" As fast as she had fallen, her boots heels crashed into the front of Jason's helmet, sending him stepping back.

He shook himself back to focus, only to find that she had vanished, a puddle of blood all that remained from where she had been no less than a second ago. But there was a sound, a faint dripping. It was almost...Echoing.

Shooting his gaze up, he saw a singular drop of blood fall from the open vent frame she'd originally fallen from. Far off pattering sounds told him that she was retreating. Good, she was just another in a long line of a failed legacy, the legacy of the highly praised "Bat-family". Red Hood knew he would be what Gotham needed, now more than ever, because, unlike the rest of them, Batman had abandoned him a long time ago.

Dick had asked him less than two weeks ago to join them against the "War on Gotham", but not one amongst them was willing to made the hard choices. Tim, Steph, and all the rest, even Grayson for that matter, they were all blind to the sacrifices that were going to have to be made in the days to come.

"Time to get back to work. No more distractions." The Red Hood had a job to do, he reminded himself, and made his way to the only one of larger shipping containers that was from Black Mask. He took off his slightly worn helmet, letting his sweat matted hair fall wildly where it may. The smaller ones were marked with [VENOM], but this larger one was reported to have been carrying weapons of some kind. With a bit of brute force, he pulled open the hollow metal door.

The contents far surpassed his expectations of assault rifles and RPGs. Instead of packed and organised munitions, Jason Todd found relics that he immediately recognized. The Trident of Poseidon, the Lasso of Truth, two separately contained Green Lantern Rings, these were all weapons used by the Justice League!

Walking through the container full of prized weapons, it became very clear that these weren't just discount copies, but the real deal. These were the weapons left behind when the League went missing. Dick was right, the League members had been taken, or killed by someone with unbelievable power. Black Mask was just a scavenger, but even he couldn't have collected these without help. No, reason deduced that Black Mask had stolen these from the original vulture on the scene, explaining why he was in such a rush to give them off to Bane. A man like Black Mask would never give up such weaponized potential unless he was desperately afraid. It was just a theory, of course, but an educated one. Someone other than Black Mask had stolen the leftover tools of the League, and had preserved them. Someone who had been first one the scene. Someone who could be responsible, or know what was.

At the far end of the container Jason yet another familiar relic of the past. Captured in upon a glass covered stand was the cowl and belt of the Batman. Walking closer, Todd stared at himself the cowls white lensed eyes through his reflection. Jason could feel him, could feel Bruce's presence in that mask. Even now, looking at that mask brought him back to that night in Crime Alley when they'd first met. Jason had been trying to pull the tires off the Batmobile of all things when the Dark Knight had stopped him. He'd taken the kid under his wing and the rest was history, only now he was gone. The only man to ever believe in him, and they'd both let each other down. They'd both chosen the wrong path.

"I'm sorry, Bruce," tears welled in his eyes. "I'm sorry I couldn't be the son you always wanted. I'm sorry I couldn't talk to you one last time." Metal creaked behind him, followed by a voice. It was husky, foreign, and above all, familiar.

"Don't worry,I'm sure you and the Bat will have a lot to discuss in Hell." Even at his top speed, Jason couldn't close the gap before his locked the man locked him within. The Red Hood was no Bane's prisoner.


	18. Chapter 17

Chapter Seventeen

The monks of Azarath had trained Raven to control her abilities, but nothing they could have done would have prepared them for their fates. For all their knowledge and peaceful philosophies, Trigon swept across their world like a flash-fire, not even hesitating when they refused to fight back. Pacifists to the end, and her father showed no mercy. He'd followed Raven to them, and even in knowing this they'd helped her escape. The monks of Azarath gave their lives so that Raven would live. She blamed herself for their deaths, they'd trusted her, raised her. They'd been her family, and they'd paid the price.

Now it was happening all over again, Raven was losing family. She'd looked up to the League the way anyone did, saw them as beacons of hope and light. They'd spawned from them several generations of heroes trying to keep the world safe, teams like the Titans and Teen Titans. From the moment they'd met, Raven felt like she was part of something bigger, something more than just a shadow of death. The League, the Titans, and even the Teen Titans all helped keep the world safer from the dark forces that would do it harm. Now Earth's finest were missing in action and everything felt a little smaller, a little darker. That beacon of light, while not extinguished was now just dimmed. Everything was scattered, in chaos, and burning. Riots in the streets of Star City, Central City in some sort of turf war between the Rogues and Gorilla Grodd, but Gotham was the worst of it. Every night was something new, something worse. It was getting so bad that a city wide exodus didn't seem off the table, according to reports from the Gotham Gazette's Vicki Vale.

She could feel it now, even if she was on the opposite end of the country. The fear, the pain, the anger, Gotham was a hot spot for the world's most depraved evil and everyone knew it. It was why Damian had left, to punish the wicked. He'd made up some righteous claim about wanting to cleanse the filth of his father's legacy, but it all seemed like crap to her. He just wanted to be in control of something again, and the best way he knew how to was to fight. So naturally, he left.

He wasn't the only one though, it was a growing trend amongst the team. Aqualad had told everyone that he and Tempest were heading back to Atlantis. Apparently in Aquaman's absence, the throne of Atlantis was under threat, and the two wanted to protect their Queen. One less member on both the Titan teams. Kid Flash had freaked after hearing that Flash had gone missing. Apparently his father had left when he was young, and the Flash had sort of filled the void in his life. Kid Flash hadn't said all of this, per say, but that was the issue with being an empath. You learned a lot about your team members, even if you didn't mean to. Raven had felt a strong paternal pain from him, and had extrapolated the rest. Beast Boy had been devastated by the League's disappearance, but for him that meant a somber silence. This was calming for about a minute, but to see the prankster of their team go mute was chilling. Starfire, their elected team leader had wanted to go on a man hunt for her romantic partner, Nightwing, but he'd been missing too. Raven could tell she feared the worst, but some part of her knew he was out there. She missed him very dearly, but she knew she couldn't abandon the team.

It was the two of them and Raven left, and only she was in the West coast Titan's Tower. Even though it much newer than the one on the East, which belonged to their older counterparts, it still felt dusty and damp. Raven wondered how the East coast, older Titans were faring, but doubted they were doing any better. Everyone was still trying to figure out how to pick up the pieces, all while she was trying to mentally prepare to fight her father. Staring over the night horizon, she felt it, a deep growling voice within her. Speak of the devil and he shall appear.

"They're all doomed. Your so called Titans are insignificant compared to me."

Even realms away, Raven could never outrun his voice. Whether it was actually him or a darker side of herself disguised as him she had no clue. It very well could have been him directly speaking to her mind, or it damn well could have just been her deepest fears manifested into a shade of Trigon's power. Whatever the case, it took his voice and it'd been with her since she'd left Azarath.

"No." Raven seated herself, closed her eyes and began a meditative trance. "I will remain calm. The Teen Titans can protect the world. They can restore order." She thought to the voice.

"Look around you. Your tower all,but abandoned, your so called heroes scattered to the wind, your cities burning. Do you really believe that things are under control?"

"We save people."

"Then why are you sitting here with me? Face it, you've lost." Raven opened her eyes in revelation.

"You're right. We are scattered, but we haven't lost it all yet." She stood and approached the dusty terminal in the main communications room.

"You've fallen, you're broken!What do you think you're doing?" Raven smiled a determined grin, her first smile in a long time.

"Standing back up." Mental preparation for her trek to Hell would have to wait. The terminal lit up with the team's signature T logo, and with it the room lit up the auxiliary power source. Immediately Beast Boy and Starfire were on comms answering in.

"Raven? Is something wrong?"

"Yeah Starfire, there is. Where are you all?"

"Patrolling over Spokane," Starfire responded. "Beast Boy?"

"Oh, um...Just clearing my head I guess." Raven was through with the pity party they all seemed to be enjoying.

"Where?" she asked directly.

"San Fran, geez. Why?" Raven clicked away at the terminal,and although that was usually Damian or Kid Flash's job, the team needed her.

"Because crime reports in Star City are buzzing all over the city."

"Yeah, so?"

"Starfire, you should be less than thirty miles out, and I can teleport over to Beast Boy and meet you there."

"Why are we going to Star City? Can't someone else take care of that tonight?"

"No! Damn it,Beast Boy, don't you get it?! We are all that's left. This isn't the time to get mopey and do less, it's the time to pick ourselves up and do even more."

"Yeah, but-" Starfire cut him off.

"We should listen to Raven. Think about it Garfield, it's what **they** would have wanted." Beast Boy gave out a heavy sigh at the mention of his first name, but resigned himself to their ideas.

"Alright, I'll wait up for you, Raven."

"I'll meet you two there," Starfire said before clicking off.

"See you soon, B." Raven signed off. She knew Star City wasn't in the midst of the worst pandemonium right now, that was easily Gotham, but it was the closest of the cities experiencing crime spikes. They'd work their way through the coast, if fates were kind,and put this to rest tonight. With luck, the Titans were doing the same on the other end of the nation.

Together they could stop the superhuman threats no one else could. They'd add more light to that beacon, and with any luck, people could see a light start to grow by the morning. It's what the League would have wanted. It's what the monks of Azarath would have wanted. More importantly, it's what she wanted, and right now that was all she needed. Even with every reason to quit, Raven would be a light for others, if only this once. She needed to be a beacon to make up for her past, and inevitably, her future. Trigon would one day find her again, it was only a matter of time,


	19. Chapter 18

Chapter Eighteen

Dick Grayson sat at the computer within The Batcave. It had been over twenty four hours since his talk with The Question, and still had yet to find a weakness in Arkham Asylum's perimeter. He'd hoped that donning the cowl to walk in would suffice, but the newest security measures on the island included voice recognition, and they had Batman on file. Even if he did just walk in, he'd still have to fight his way out, and Dick doubted he could take an entire prison worth of guards, especially ones as trained as those stationed at Arkham. Stealth was his best approach.

There was a distant scuffling behind him, and Grayson didn't hesitate to respond. He jumped up from his chair, Bat cowl still covering his face, as he entered into a fighter's stance. Instead of an enemy, he found a wounded friend. It was Batwoman, Kate Kane, and she was trailing blood. Dick was so focused on helping her, he hadn't even realized the look of shock on her face.

"Bruce?" Dick took a breath, calming his jumping heart. He pulled back the mantle with a weak smile.

"Hey Kate. I was just-" She swung a leg at him fast, followed by a one-two punch, landing every hit.

"You son of a bitch! Where have you been?!" Kate let out a struggling grunt, as she leaned against the desk. Grayson nursed his jaw, but didn't protest. He'd earned it with his absences, and he knew nothing he could say would earn her trust back. What was more, he'd gone ahead and taken the mantle of the Bat, but for his own. He hadn't once told the family his belief that Gotham would always need someone to be Batman, let alone his mission to break Poison Ivy out of Arkham.

"I've been busy, Kate. Trying to-"

"No you haven't." Kate stumbled over to a nearby steel table, sitting on it so that her leg was laid out. She pulled out several bandages from a basket beneath the table and angrily bit off a strip for her leg. " **This** is busy, Grayson. Saving Gotham is busy. Trying to get Gordon to trust that people are still safe in their homes is busy. Making sure the team doesn't die to this War on Gotham is busy. What you've been doing is **running** , Dick."

"Kate please," his eyes went down to her wound. "Who shot you? Is the team okay?"

"Bullet went straight through, it missed the bone. Team's fine." She stopped, trying to find a way to tell Dick something.

"It was him. The shooter, it was Jason." Grayson couldn't believe it.

"What? No, I spoke with him a couple of weeks ago. He said he didn't want anything to do with Gotham."

"Funny way of showing it. Met up with him on the tail for Bane."

"What?! Bane is here?" Kate finished her wrapping, with only mild disgruntlement.

"Yeah, and if we don't do something tonight, there might not be a Gotham by morning"

"What are you talking about?"

"On my way back to the cave, Red Robin reported that one of Bane's lieutenant's had goons rob Ace Chemicals. Some group with an insignia of a blackbird, the same I saw on the docks before Jason butchered them." Turning back to the computer, Dick plugged the intel into the computer's database. In less than a second, he had a match.

"Got it.A man named Bird. A former prisoner of Santa Prisca, an island meant to house the worst murders and convicts on the planet. "

"Should start putting that place to good use, could save us a lot of trouble."

"Can't, Bane took over the island nearly a decade ago. He's ruled it like a king ever since. From what I can tell he's been there ever since he last escaped Arkham, over a year ago. He's been laying low ever since."

"I'll let the team know," Kate stood, with only a slight wince at the pain. "But this doesn't change anything. You know that."

"Where are you going? After being shot you can't-"

"Listen Grayson, I don't know what your malfunction is, but you can't just leave for days without a word, then just drop in and lecture me on what I can't do. Either help or stay out of the way."

"Kate, I just wanted to help."

"Save it. You know as well as I do that if that were really true, you would have stayed here. With the family. You said you talked to Jason, probably trying to bring him here so you wouldn't feel so bad about leaving us." Dick didn't know how to respond.

"I thought maybe I could set things right on my own. I thought I could-"

"You thought you could be **him**." Grayson looked at the mask in his hands, an older variation of Bruce's suit. "I'll tell you what I told Todd, Dick. No matter what you do, no matter how hard you try, you'll **never** be him." With a flourish of her cape she turned. Dick wasn't watching as she rode off on one of the several emergency cycles the Cave supplied. His eyes were transfixed on the white lensed mask of The Batman.

Years of training, combat and cases. Years more of espionage, infiltration, and analysis. What did it all matter, Dick knew that he was just that boy from the circus deep down inside. He'd always be just a sidekick, wouldn't he. He'd made the original Teen Titans to break away from that mold, and who eventually grew to become the Titans. He'd convinced people like Roy and Wally West that they were more that sidekicks, more than accessories. They were their own people, but with everything happening now, Dick wasn't so sure. He just felt so lost. He just wanted to make the man he knew proud, but it was too late for that. The teams were scattered, Gotham was on fire, and Grayson had abandoned everyone when they'd needed leadership the most.

A metal tray crashes to the floor behind Grayson, and with it several porcelain cups cracked or shattered. Dick turned, surprised that twice tonight people had snuck up on him. He was too distracted, too caught up with himself that he wasn't thinking clearly. What's worse was that he knew it, but couldn't stop himself.

Knowing exactly who it would be, Dick swivelled the chair a quarter turn to weakly look up at Alfred Pennyworth's teary eyed expression.

"My word."He all, but whispered to himself. Alfred recomposed himself. "My apologies master Grayson, for just a moment I thought you were…" Alfred trailed off, seeing Dick's gaze return to the mask. The caretaker came to his side.

"I'm not good enough, Alfred. I'm not strong enough to do things **his** way. I'm losing myself." Alfred dried his eyes, then handed his handkerchief over to Grayson, who waved it away. His eyes felt bone dry from emotional exhaustion.

"With all due respect, when did you ever think Master Wayne's way was the right one?" Allfred's tone had changed from the kind man who had bandaged his wounds, to more of a wise grandfather.

"What?"

"Pardon me, but as I recall you and Master Wayne disagreed on nearly every fundamental issue you ever discussed. That's why you went off on your own to start the Teen Titans in the first place, as I recall." Dick looked away in denial.

"I was just sick of being underneath him. I was just a jealous child."

"I don't think that's true at all, sir." Alfred got down on his knees to look him in the eyes. "I think you left because you knew that no one is an island. You started a team because you knew that others in your situation were more than just proteges. You knew that everyone one you stood side by side with was their own person, their own identity completely separate from their tutors, in just the same way you are."

"I want you to know something." Dick looked back at his old friend. "Something Bruce never truly told anyone other than me."

"What, Alfred?"

"When you went on your own,Bruce knew you were standing up for your ideals. The very second you left our home to strike out on your own, I saw something that I've scarcely seen since. I saw Bruce Wayne smile, just as any proud father should. That's why he's given you the freedom to protect Bludhaven and the like on your own. He trusted you. He trusted **your** way of doing things. Master Wayne, I'm afraid was never really good at making friends, but he always had hope that the world's heroes would unite because they had to. What he saw in you and your team, I can only assume it was the actualization of the hope. You did what he could not, my boy. You earned the world's trust the way he could not, and the way he never could. The Batman may have been a symbol for justice, but Robin and Nightwing were always one of inspiration."

Dick couldn't believe it. In his darkest moments, it hadn't been some magical force, or an alien savior to help him. It had been a friend.

"You're a good man, Alfred."

"No greater than you, Richard." Dick gave one last look at the mask of Batman. Alfred was right. He couldn't do things Bruce's way anymore. If for nothing else, Bruce would hate seeing him like this.

"I think my days as Batman are over."

"I think that's for the best, sir." The butler's knees creaked as he stood. He offered the young man a hand to lift him out of the chair. "If I might ask, what do you intend on doing next?"

Grayson turned back to the batcomputer, only glancing at his fabricated layout of Arkham Asylum. Afterwards his eyes shifted to the intel on Bird, and by proxy, Bane. Kate was right, if he waited any longer there wouldn't be a Gotham by morning. He'd go back for Ivy later, the city needed him now more than ever. Gotham needed him, but not as Batman.

"I think the next thing I oughta do is change, Alfred," Dick said with a smile. "Maybe back into something with a bit more blue."


	20. Chapter 19

Chapter Nineteen

"Is everything set for our assault, Colonel Flagg?" Amanda Waller's voice was cold, a symptom of her occupation.

"I'd hardly call it an assault, ma'am. The subject has no clue we're watching him, it should be just a quick tag and grab." She looked at him, her face lit only by monitors covering metahuman alerts. They were watching the world burn, but did nothing to stop it. Amanda's plan was bigger than a handful of cities.

"Don't underestimate him, Flagg. The Question may seem like just a paranoid conspiracy theorist, but more often than not he's theories come true. Have you seen our footage?" Waller clicked a remote, switching one of the terminals to a recording of a low rent apartment covered with loose papers and documents. The angle suggested the camera was on the floor, and moving. It was small, from the view of the scope of the feed. The subject of their surveillance came into view, the man without a face. The very same man who could uncover what happened to the Justice League, and better yet, who could accomplish such a feat.

"Let me guess," Flagg spoke out. "You sent in a drone. Small, practically unnoticeable."

"Close. We placed several lense cameras on a cockroach's eyes. It's the same as wearing a contact that records footage instead of a camera. We see what it saw, but without it being a known machine. No one looks twice at insects, Flagg."

The Question picked up the roach and lifted the perspective of the camera.

"No one, except The Question." Their video feed began speaking back to them.

"Yes, where are you? There, aha I've caught you! You! Who are you?A spy sent by the Scarecrow? A plague from some unknown alien menace? Or are you simply what you are? The most durable insect on the entire planet. You could survive an entire nuclear winter without so much as a thought to , you've readjusted those antennae of yours in between my common speech pattern. This risks you being a spy sent by the NSA, or perhaps even my old friends at CADMUS. Yes, those bastards would want me locked up, wouldn't they?... That seals your fate." The camera squished with a pop of orange, and then nothing."

"He mentioned CADMUS," was Flagg's takeaway."

"Yes. He did."

"Why have I never heard of it."

"Because it doesn't exist anymore. CADMUS was an old R and D branch of ARGUS. Thanks to The Question's meddling, I had no choice but to shut it down." Waller gave a low growl at the memory of throwing several years worth of genetic research to waste.

"That man has been a thorn in my side for as many years as I've run this operation. You may think he's clueless, but he knows we're coming, Flagg. He always knows."

"With all due respect, ma'am, why don't we just take him off the board?" Waller was taken aback by Flagg's uncharacteristic want for blood.

"Colonel, I've always known you to be more on the tame side."

"You said he was a problem, ma'am. I'm just thinking of solutions." She narrowed her eyes at him, suspiciously.

"Yes...And we have one. We're extracting him, bringing him here to get what he knows. Argus can't be seen stealing people from their homes, so we're sending in Task Force X."

"The whole squad, ma'am?" An odd question.

"Yes, why? Concerned for someone Flagg?" He seemed to shuffle in his seat uncomfortably.

"No ma'am. Just curious." Something wasn't right.

"What is it, Colonel. Spill it."

"I…" Flagg resigned himself. "It's the Enchantress, ma'am."

"Yes, Miss Moone." Odd that Flagg named the more dangerous of the two sides of the poor soul. Usually he referred to her human half. "What appears to be the problem."

"She appears to be suffering from exhaustion. Low energy, consistent dizzy spells, it's very unlike her. I think you're overworking her, ma'am." Again something wasn't quite right with what Flagg was saying. The squad hadn't left Belle Reve in three months, and had been under guard and camera surveillance the entire time. Flagg should have known that though, or maybe he still did. Waller could sense that not everything was as it seemed.

"I'll keep her here then. No practical reason to bring the ancient powers of the Enchantress to what equates to a knife fight, wouldn't you say?"

"As you say, ma'am."

"Dismissed, Flagg." With a click of his boots and a salute, he left the room, leaving Waller calculating in the splashed colors of the large monitors.

She clicked again on her remote, and the screen filled with the multiple feeds of Task Force X in their cells. Deadshot, Harley Quinn, Killer Croc, Captain Boomerang, and even Miss Moone. Waller clicked again, and Miss Moone's feed filled the screen. She was laying in bed, awake, and reading a book that had been thoroughly searched before it had been given to her. The last thing they wanted was someone to smuggle the Enchantress a pass key to escape. The book was one she had requested herself, Homer's Iliad. As normal as this was Waller couldn't help, but feel something an air of discomfort watching her. It was as if looking into her eyes was a gateway to the imprisoned hellspawn that was The Enchantress.

"What're you up to ?" Waller asked to the empty room. It was at that exact moment that June looked up to the camera watching her. That innocent bubbly look of the graphic designer she used to be, but within it Waller saw even more of her. Behind the seemingly natural smile of a happy go lucky girl was a look of deep pain. It was difficult to hide a micro expression such as this, and even harder to find, but Waller saw it clear as day. The sweet June Moone was scared for her life.

It wasn't just the setting or the knowledge that a bomb had been placed in her neck, no those Miss Moone had slowly adapted to. This was an entity in it of itself. She knew something else, something Amanda didn't. Some terrifying thing that had her so deeply afraid that she was trying to hide it,to lie to herself, to pretend it didn't exist.

June looked back to her book, her smile slowly dissolving. Something wasn't right with that girl, and the evil within her was undoubtedly responsible. Normally Katana, with her knowledge of how the arcane arts function, was Waller's advisor on matters having to do with the Enchantress, but it seemed like she'd vanished with the League. Unfortunate, her input was vital, and her Soul Blade had the capability to detect when Evil was present. If Enchantress were up to something, Katana would have been able to sense it. Unfortunate, but nothing to do about it now other than complete The Question's extraction.

It was the stream of event s that bothered Amanda so much. The League, Katana, and several others go missing. No one takes responsibility. That's Day Zero. On Day Five, the Daily Planet announces Superman's absence. On Day Six, the "New" Flash imprisons Gorilla Grodd. Day Seven is when several Lexcorp security guards are felled by some sort of unkillable man, perhaps an ally of Grodd's outraged at Luthor's inaction. Luthor refused to comment, but the it's obvious that Luthor hasn't cut all ties to the super criminal community. On Day Eight is when our literal bug in The Question's room is destroyed after less than a minute of surveillance. Was it absurd to think he could uncover what was occurring with The Enchantress's host? Day Nine was the first appearance of the Batman impostor, and the death of Ted Grant, the Wildcat. Autopsy suggests he was slain by a trained killer. An assassin. And now, as Day Fourteen becomes Fifteen Gotham is aflame. The so called Bat Family was relying on the leadership of Batwoman, with Nightwing, the Red Hood, and Damian Wayne all Missing in Action. If all goes well, Day Fifteen should include Poison Ivy's execution, and ARGUS'S acquisition of The Question.

Waller needed Ivy dead, she was a loose end for a mission that had gone south the last time Task Force X had seen the light of day. In truth, it could have been blamed on Ivy's attachment to Harley, but all the same trusting her cooperation as a third party with her friend held prisoner was a poor idea from the start. All that trouble in a vain attempt to study The Green. What a waste.

Tomorrow was their scheduled extraction of The Question, but there was a major problem with that. His residence was in Gotham. Waller's plan now relied solely on the Bat Family doing what they did best. It all depended on them saving their city. Or did it?

"We're accelerating the timetable." She hit down on the over com mic for Task Force X's holding cells. "Grab your gear team." She opened their cells, which only led to their personnel lockers. "You're mission starts now."


	21. Chapter 20

Chapter Twenty One

Damian Wayne launched his knee into the chin of a man much larger than him, felling him all the same. The other two men in the alley held handguns, but gave pause at shooting a child, forgetting the fact that he was in the Robin uniform.

"I'll say it again. Where is Bane?" Damian's presence far exceeded his stature, and this he used to his advantage.

"We don't know anything, kid. Beat it," the skinnier of the two stammered, apparently forgiving Damian for dropping their friend like the candy ass he was.

"Not until I get answers." Robin pulled unsheathed katana he always carried with him. He took his stance, legs a shoulder width apart, the blade out and center. "You can either give them, or I will take them!"

"What even makes you think this is Bane, kid? Could just be a city fire, or some gas leak? Huh? Hell, isn't it past your bedtime?" The two laughed, while Damian's eyes narrowed. He was practicing restraint as Father had taught him.

"One. Last. Chance." The two kept laughing, but Damian smirked. It had been a while since his blade had cut through cowards, even if it was only to scare them.

Robin leapt into the air, slicing the skinnier man down his arm before he could aim his gun. It was a superficial cut. Mostly. He screamed, like the criminal coward he was. Damian was a warrior and fear was his weapon more than any blade or martial art. Although his mentors had feuded deeper philosophies, both Ras al Ghul and Batman had agreed that criminals could be made to understand terror. And tonight there was much terror to be had.

The second man actually was able to get a shot off, but it landed in the brick wall beside them, Damian predicting its path based on the vermin's wrist alignment. He was never able to get off a second.

Damian pounced on his like a rabid jungle cat, his full body weight toppling the two of them to the ground. While the scum was disoriented by the fall, Robin landed atop him with grace, a blade at his prey's throat.

The skinny man had made some noise of effort behind Robin, and on instinct the boy wonder tossed a triad of shurikens in his direction. He knew exactly where'd they land, and they did so. Three precision punctures to both his shoulders and his left thigh. The skinny man fell to the ground in a loud pain, leaving only the larger man to interrogate.

"Where is Bane!?" There was actual fear in his eyes now,not comedy or dismissal. This scum, for all his felonies and injustices was now truly frightened of Robin. Damian had almost forgotten the rush of having someone else's life in his hands, to feel their body's inaudibly beg for mercy.

No. He wasn't that assassin anymore. He wasn't a killer. He wasn't his grandfather's heir, not anymore. He was better than that. He was a Teen Titan. He was the Son of Batman.

"I don't know, kid. Honest!"

"You're lying! You're Alberto Falcone, bastard child of the Falcone crime family."

"You-You know who I am?"

"Don't flatter yourself. I know **every** criminal in Gotham by memory. I also know that you were at a meeting with Falcone and one of Bane's lieutenant's. A day later Falcone left town, leaving you here to control his slice of Gotham's underworld in his absence."

"How? How could you-"

"I'm not just a sidekick, pal. Now talk!" Damian pressed the blade closer to his throat, with no intention of actually killing. His prey didn't need to know that.

"Okay okay! I was there! He said his name was Bird, said that something big was coming to Gotham! Said he wanted Falcone out of the way!"

"Why didn't your father stay, Alberto? Speak quick, I'm getting impatient!"

"He-He-He brought in a duffel bag-w-with heads in it! S-said that Bane had my sister Sophia, and killed her men. Said he'd give her back if we caused as much damage as we could for a day. Pops left town on a man-hunt for Bane, left me in charge to do what I could...I-I, oh god."

"Did you set the fires? Alberto, is the Falcone mob setting these fires in Gotham!?" Alberto began breaking down in tears. Damnit all to hell, he was having a panic attack.

Damian threw him to the ground, fed up with him. He was confident he'd gotten his answers. Bane wanted as much chaos in Gotham as possible, but for what? A distraction, no doubt, but a distraction from what. Robin was thankful that he'd been tailing Falcone over the last few days, attempting to cut the head off of the beast that fed on Gotham's weak and poor. He was scum, arguably worse most others in the city. Murderers in masks had mental illnesses, they probably couldn't even tell what they were doing was wrong, but crime bosses disregarded decency for profit. Even still, they weren't the worst.

Bane was not a clown or a vermin. He wasn't a riddle or a reptile. He wasn't a sniper, a doctor, or even a cult leader. He was Bane, and he was the only man who had ever beaten Damian's father. This fact was not lost on Robin, in fact it was at the very forefront of his mind. Where even men as influential as the great Ras al Ghul had failed, Bane had succeeded. If he was preying on Gotham, Damian would need to be at his best. He'd need to be better than his father before him.

"Robin, you there?" It was Starfire.

"What do you want? I'm busy." He didn't even try to hide his disdain at this distraction.

"We know, it's all over the news. Gotham looks like it could use some help."

"Fires are going to be the least of our worries. Bane is launching a full-scale assault on the city."

"Bane? Why would he want-"

"It doesn't matter, we just need to find him first."

"No," Raven interrupted the two of them, now on the same comm channel. "What we need to do is save lives."

"That's just what he wants us to do! Don't you all get it, he's trying to get the Batfamily distracted with saving the masses. It's basic Art of War tactics, divide and conquer. It's how he thinks."

"Then leave the fires to us, we have some friends here willing to help." Starfire had...a pretty good idea actually.

"Give me your location then, we can meet up and-"

"Actually," It was Beast Boy to intervene this time. "We're on the other side of the country."

"Then what was the point of even offering?" Starfire calmed the comm channels with her solution.

"We sent some others ahead to help. Beast Boy, Raven and I are stuck in Star City right now, and probably won't be able to help you, fact is we're just can't travel fast enough."

Damian put two and two together.

"Which means you sent someone who could. Got it. I'll find them and give them the sit-rep." Everyone seemed ready to cut the call to get back to work, but Damian had something he needed to say.

"Starfire, Team...I wanted to inform you of how honored I am to count you among my allies. You're capabilities have surpassed my expectations." Naturally, it was Beast Boy to not know when to shut up.

"Did Robin just compliment us? Raven, quick pinch me, I must've fallen asleep." Damian sneered, but still meant what he'd said. The Teen Titans had been the foundation he'd needed. They'd been his friends.

"We'll see each other soon, Robin," Starfire encouraged. "Good luck."

"You too. Robin out." Although he claimed to turn off his earpiece, Robin stayed on the line for what would be the last time he'd ever hear Starfire deliver the team's rallying cry.

"Titans Go!"


	22. Chapter 21

Chapter Twenty-One

Damian Wayne launched his knee into the chin of a man much larger than him, felling him all the same. The other two men in the alley held handguns, but gave pause at shooting a child, forgetting the fact that he was in the Robin uniform.

"I'll say it again. Where is Bane?" Damian's presence far exceeded his stature, and this he used to his advantage.

"We don't know anything, kid. Beat it," the skinnier of the two stammered, apparently forgiving Damian for dropping their friend like the candy ass he was.

"Not until I get answers." Robin pulled unsheathed katana he always carried with him. He took his stance, legs a shoulder width apart, the blade out and center. "You can either give them, or I will take them!"

"What even makes you think this is Bane, kid? Could just be a city fire, or some gas leak? Huh? Hell, isn't it past your bedtime?" The two laughed, while Damian's eyes narrowed. He was practicing restraint as Father had taught him.

"One. Last. Chance." The two kept laughing, but Damian smirked. It had been a while since his blade had cut through cowards, even if it was only to scare them.

Robin leapt into the air, slicing the skinnier man down his arm before he could aim his gun. It was a superficial cut. Mostly. He screamed, like the criminal coward he was. Damian was a warrior and fear was his weapon more than any blade or martial art. Although his mentors had feuded deeper philosophies, both Ras al Ghul and Batman had agreed that criminals could be made to understand terror. And tonight there was much terror to be had.

The second man actually was able to get a shot off, but it landed in the brick wall beside them, Damian predicting its path based on the vermin's wrist alignment. He was never able to get off a second.

Damian pounced on his like a rabid jungle cat, his full body weight toppling the two of them to the ground. While the scum was disoriented by the fall, Robin landed atop him with grace, a blade at his prey's throat.

The skinny man had made some noise of effort behind Robin, and on instinct the boy wonder tossed a triad of shurikens in his direction. He knew exactly where'd they land, and they did so. Three precision punctures to both his shoulders and his left thigh. The skinny man fell to the ground in a loud pain, leaving only the larger man to interrogate.

"Where is Bane!?" There was actual fear in his eyes now,not comedy or dismissal. This scum, for all his felonies and injustices was now truly frightened of Robin. Damian had almost forgotten the rush of having someone else's life in his hands, to feel their body's inaudibly beg for mercy.

No. He wasn't that assassin anymore. He wasn't a killer. He wasn't his grandfather's heir, not anymore. He was better than that. He was a Teen Titan. He was the Son of Batman.

"I don't know, kid. Honest!"

"You're lying! You're Alberto Falcone, bastard child of the Falcone crime family."

"You-You know who I am?"

"Don't flatter yourself. I know **every** criminal in Gotham by memory. I also know that you were at a meeting with Falcone and one of Bane's lieutenant's. A day later Falcone left town, leaving you here to control his slice of Gotham's underworld in his absence."

"How? How could you-"

"I'm not just a sidekick, pal. Now talk!" Damian pressed the blade closer to his throat, with no intention of actually killing. His prey didn't need to know that.

"Okay okay! I was there! He said his name was Bird, said that something big was coming to Gotham! Said he wanted Falcone out of the way!"

"Why didn't your father stay, Alberto? Speak quick, I'm getting impatient!"

"He-He-He brought in a duffel bag-w-with heads in it! S-said that Bane had my sister Sophia, and killed her men. Said he'd give her back if we caused as much damage as we could for a day. Pops left town on a man-hunt for Bane, left me in charge to do what I could...I-I, oh god."

"Did you set the fires? Alberto, is the Falcone mob setting these fires in Gotham!?" Alberto began breaking down in tears. Damnit all to hell, he was having a panic attack.

Damian threw him to the ground, fed up with him. He was confident he'd gotten his answers. Bane wanted as much chaos in Gotham as possible, but for what? A distraction, no doubt, but a distraction from what. Robin was thankful that he'd been tailing Falcone over the last few days, attempting to cut the head off of the beast that fed on Gotham's weak and poor. He was scum, arguably worse most others in the city. Murderers in masks had mental illnesses, they probably couldn't even tell what they were doing was wrong, but crime bosses disregarded decency for profit. Even still, they weren't the worst.

Bane was not a clown or a vermin. He wasn't a riddle or a reptile. He wasn't a sniper, a doctor, or even a cult leader. He was Bane, and he was the only man who had ever beaten Damian's father. This fact was not lost on Robin, in fact it was at the very forefront of his mind. Where even men as influential as the great Ras al Ghul had failed, Bane had succeeded. If he was preying on Gotham, Damian would need to be at his best. He'd need to be better than his father before him.

"Robin, you there?" It was Starfire.

"What do you want? I'm busy." He didn't even try to hide his disdain at this distraction.

"We know, it's all over the news. Gotham looks like it could use some help."

"Fires are going to be the least of our worries. Bane is launching a full-scale assault on the city."

"Bane? Why would he want-"

"It doesn't matter, we just need to find him first."

"No," Raven interrupted the two of them, now on the same comm channel. "What we need to do is save lives."

"That's just what he wants us to do! Don't you all get it, he's trying to get the Batfamily distracted with saving the masses. It's basic Art of War tactics, divide and conquer. It's how he thinks."

"Then leave the fires to us, we have some friends here willing to help." Starfire had...a pretty good idea actually.

"Give me your location then, we can meet up and-"

"Actually," It was Beast Boy to intervene this time. "We're on the other side of the country."

"Then what was the point of even offering?" Starfire calmed the comm channels with her solution.

"We sent some others ahead to help. Beast Boy, Raven and I are stuck in Star City right now, and probably won't be able to help you, fact is we're just can't travel fast enough."

Damian put two and two together.

"Which means you sent someone who could. Got it. I'll find them and give them the sit-rep." Everyone seemed ready to cut the call to get back to work, but Damian had something he needed to say.

"Starfire, Team...I wanted to inform you of how honored I am to count you among my allies. You're capabilities have surpassed my expectations." Naturally, it was Beast Boy to not know when to shut up.

"Did Robin just compliment us? Raven, quick pinch me, I must've fallen asleep." Damian sneered, but still meant what he'd said. The Teen Titans had been the foundation he'd needed. They'd been his friends.

"We'll see each other soon, Robin," Starfire encouraged. "Good luck."

"You too. Robin out." Although he claimed to turn off his earpiece, Robin stayed on the line for what would be the last time he'd ever hear Starfire deliver the team's rallying cry.

"Titans Go!"


	23. Chapter 22

Chapter Twenty Two

Wally West never imagined he'd wake up one day with super powers, let alone end up using them side by side with The Flash. For months he'd been training as Kid Flash, Central City's newest speedster. He could see things in slow motion, glide across water like it was the sidewalk, and could even travel through entire states in just minutes. He'd even been recruited into the Teen Titans by **Robin**! Yeah, it was pretty cool being the Kid Flash, but that all changed two weeks ago. Something had happened to the Justice League, some wormhole or monster or something. None of the papers could decide on which one was the truth, and none really had anything to go on. Without The Flash, Wally had thought his training was over, and with it his dreams of being a superhero.

Turns out that wasn't the case either. Another speedster found him, another hero that Aunt Iris had been calling the "New" Flash. He got Wally off his feet and tried to get him back in the game. While about a decade younger than the real Flash had been, this guy knew what he was talking about. He was almost as fast as the original too, which was saying a lot. Wally had asked him one day if the "New" Flash had known the original. His new mentor had chuckled quite a bit at that. Turns out Wally wasn't the first Kid Flash.

The two actually got along really well, probably because the age difference wasn't so big. It was nice having The Flash as a mentor as a friend, but this new one was more of a friend than anything else. They'd often race each other, and Wally would always lose, but every time he did he felt himself getting a little bit better. A little bit faster.

They'd done more than just train together too. Whenever another villain in a bright outfit would try to rob or whatever, the two of them were there in a flash. Wally always chuckled when he thought of that joke. He knew that the original Flash would like it too.

After over a week of getting to know each other, the two ended upon a hillside looking over Central City. They'd bought over a dozen pizzas to get back the calories they'd burnt from the day, and a few shakes for an extra sugary boost. It wasn't luxurious, but it was quiet and comfortable.

"Hey," Wally said, starting the conversation.

"Yeah?"

"Was your name really Kid Flash? Like y'know, back in the day?" He nodded.

"Sure was."

"How come I've never heard of you then. You're not to much older than me, I feel like I'd have seen something when I was a kid."

"Well, for one, you still are a kid-"

"Bro, I'm like fifteen."

"-And two, it's sort of a long complicated story." Wally put a couple of fingers over his ear, mocking that hye was listening to the police scanner in his head cap.

"Seems like Central City's quiet for the night. I've got all night, man." It didn't seem to be working. "Come on, let me hear your superhero origin story man. I'm sure it has a tragic backstory and everything," Wally joked. The New Flash cracked a smile.

"Well, you got me there. Okay, okay I'll tell you, but you can't be spreading it everywhere, got it?"

"Of course, yeah."

"I mean it, K.F. Not even the Teen Titans."

"Right. Yeah. Just tell me already." New Flash took a breath, then pulled off his face mask, revealing his full face. He looked like just another redheaded white guy to Wally, but the truth was he'd never shown Kid Flash his face before. It was a show of trust, and a big one. Not even Wally had told him who he was. Then he started talking.

"My father's name was Robert West, but most people called him Rudy. His brother's name was Daniel and his sister's was Iris." Wally's heart did a spiral. "I was named after my great grandfather, Wallace West, same as you were. Your father, Daniel West, is my uncle." Kid Flash didn't understand what he was hearing.

"My name is Wally West, and Wally...We're cousins." Kid Flash didn't hesitate to respond.

"Bullshit."

"Let me explain-"

"Uncle Rudy didn't have a kid! You just learned my name and thought you'd punk me, is that it? Well congratulations, you got me, asshole!" Wally started to rush off, but the New Flash caught him by the shoulders.

"Listen to me! There was an attack by one of my villains, Abra Kadabra-"

"Never heard of him," Wally tried shoving this stranger off of him, but only made it a few paces before The New Flash stopped him again.

"He's from the future and used time altering technology to erase me from history, okay! It backfired and hit him too, sending him back to his time."

"You're just making stuff up, man."

"No I'm not, I swear. He made it so that everyone forgot who I was. The Titans, my family, even The Flash. But he was stopped. The Speed Force gave me-"

"The what?"

"He never taught you- Nevermind. The Speed Force is what gives a speedster their powers. It generates energy whenever we run, but also fuels us too. It's kind of hard to explain, but all you need to know is I was taken into the Speed Force when Abra Kadabra made me disappear."

"This is starting to get a little too crazy for me. I'm done talking to you-" New Flash shook him by the shoulders.

"Just listen to me! The Speed Force gave me a chance, and it was The Flash that brought me back. He saved me, okay. That's the truth. I promise." Wally remained visibly unconvinced. "I can prove it." He took another breath.

"I know who The Flash is." This bought Wally's attention.

"You-what?"

"I know who The Flash really is, and I can prove it too, if you'll come with me." Wally didn't have a choice. He had to know who his old mentor was really. The two started running, Kid Flash following right behind as they made their way into Central City. They took a few quick turns, zig zagging through traffic.

Wally could see everything, but not as a blur, or in slow motion like a lot of people thought. It was sort of a mixture of both, hard to focus, but also hard to see everything. It was an addictive feeling, running fast, like a sort of boost to his body. He felt fresher, more relaxed, but could still feel all of his muscles doing the work they needed to. It was a personal bliss, and he figured that it wasn't one he shared alone.

The arrived inside the Central City police station, jagged turns leading them directly into some Crime Scene Investigator's office. There were expensive microscopes everywhere, each one slightly different than the others, and all were surrounded by and assortment of cluttered samples of hair or blood. In the back of the room was a white board filled with webs of how cases might have occurred.

The New Flash led Wally to the back wall, near the window. He pulled down on a string which brought down a roll down sheet of canvas, upon which was another crime brainstorm. This one was much different rolldown crime report had much more in depth answers, more detailed analysis of a murder. The pictures were graphic, but no clue looked too small. The top picture featured a woman in her thirties with red hair, blood trailing from her mouth.

"Who was she?"

"This," the New Flash announced. "Is how he started. With the death of Nora Allen. He's been on this case, and everyday he gets a little bit closer to figuring it out."

"Yeah, but who is he?"

"Oh come on, Wally, you're a smart kid. Look around. You've been here before, haven't you?" The place did look a little familiar, even in the dark.

"My aunt Iris takes me here sometimes...She comes here to talk to- Wait, are you saying-?!"

"That Barry Allen is The Flash." Everything made so much sense now. Why The Flash never wanted to reveal his identity, why Iris was always so interested in talking to some science guy with the police. Why he'd always duck out of their interviews whenever trouble started. Wally always figured he was just a coward, but it turned out that he was the greatest hero he'd ever known.

"So…" Wally began to cry. "So he was watching over me the whole time?"

"He was, Wally. That's what he did. He kept people safe."

"He could have told me! He could have- could have-" Wally threw himself into the New Flash's arms. They stood there together for a while, just letting Wally cry it out.

"She never told me."

"Would you have told her? HAve you even told her what **you** do yet?" He realized he hadn't.

"I was-I was-just trying to-"

"I know. Believe me Wally I know, but we can keep going forward. We can protect the city just like he'd want us to, but I can't do it without you. What do you say, man? You in?" Other Wally held out a hand, and Kid Flash took it with pride.

"Good. I guess the first thing we should do is-" There was a _ping_ on the New Flash's communicator. He pulled up his mask and activated it. "Go for Wally...He **what**?!...Donna, slow down, what's happening?... And we're the only ones, got it." He gave Wally a look, then a smirk. "Yeah, I don't think it'll be a problem to pick him up. We're on our way, Donna. Take care." He clicked off.

"What was that?"

"Well, turns out an old friend of mine needs some help down in Gotham City. Whaddya say? Race you there?" Wally beamed.

"You're on." And in a flash they were gone, leaving Barry's office behind. Wally had learned a lot tonight, but it didn't change who he was. He was still the Kid Flash, still a speedster, still a Teen Titan, and still a superhero. That was the coolest part of all.


	24. Chapter 23

Chapter Twenty Three

"Where are they?" Detective Montoya asked over Gordon's shoulder. The Commissioner was lighting his pipe as he stood atop the roof of the East End Police Station. A large flood light sat next to him, with The Batman's insignia inside it, the signal shining into the skyline of Gotham.

"They'll be here." He took a long drag, and puffed out a cloud of smoke.

"How can you be so calm?"

"You lived in Gotham long, Miss Montoya?"

"A few years, why?" Gordon took off his glasses, and rubbed them with his shirt.

"Because we haven't had a night this bad in a long time. Got so bad folks were rioting, looting, everything and anything they could do to get control over their lives."

"I don't understand." Another inhale and exhale.

"That's all these people are after, Detective. Control. They want to be reminded that they have control over their lives. That they're not just pawns of the mayor, or hostages for super villains. They want to be reminded that this city is theirs. And that's what we're going to do."

"That's great Commissioner , but how?" The rain turned the tobacco in Gordon's pipe to mush, probably for the best. There was a flash of lightning, and Gordon saw them.

"With them." As he said so, four masked individuals landed atop the police rooftop. He knew all of them, seen them show up one at a time as the years came by. The Batman had a way of recruiting all sorts of folks. The most recognizable was Robin, the Boy Wonder, although these days he looked like Robin the boy killer with that sword at his side. Then there was Red Robin, a technical genius just like his mentor before him. Batwoman stood tall, her intimidating stature making Gordon almost forget the old Batman wasn't here. Then there was one of his oldest partners, the blue and black acrobat himself, Nightwing.

"It's a long way from Bludhaven," Gordon stated with a smile.

"Not too far," Nightwing replied.

"Where's Batman?" Montoya asked, intervening on Gordon's reunion.

"Seems he couldn't make it," Batwoman responded, but with a fraction of a smile on her face. Gordon had a sense he knew what she was talking about.

"Couldn't make it?! Our city is on-"

"Montoya, I think we're in good hands. Unless you think our friends here can't handle it." She was about to argue, when Robin intervened.

"Actually, Commissioner, we aren't alone."

"He's right," Red Robin continued. "Three of our comrades are already in the thick of it as we speak. You've met Spoiler, Orphan, and Azrael before, yes?" Gordon nodded.

"I believe so."

"Then you know they can handle themselves."

"Those weren't the others I was referring to, Red Robin." The rest of the team turned to look at their youngest member in surprise.

"Who'd you invite over, Robin ?" Nightwing joked.

"Just a couple of speedsters, nothing fancy."

As if by some convenient miracle, a blazing light began zipping through the city blocks. Montoya rushed to the side of the building as the trail of light split into two as it approached. They came barreling towards the building, but instead of crashing through it, they simply glided up its side as easy as it had traversed the city vibrant individuals stood before them, both in different proportions of red white and gold.

"Commissioner Gordon. The Kid and New Flash."

"New Flash," Montoya wondered. "What happened to the old one?" Gordon put away his pipe.

"Same thing that happened to Batman, I'd wager. Good to see you all, whatever the case."

"We're here to help however we can, Commissioner," the New Flash responded.

"Wow," the younger one interjected. "It's like the whole Bat Family is here. Robin! How's it going dude, haven't seen you in days man." Everyone seemed to look sternly in Kid Flash's direction. The poor kid looked embarrassed, but readjusted his posture to re focus.

"Give us the full story,"said the New Flash, as if his counterpart hadn't spoken. Gordon had expected Nightwing to give the briefing, but he nodded the glances over to Batwoman.

"It's your team, you lead." he told her. She gave a grateful nod in return and began her situation report.

"We've got fires all across the East End, mostly in residential zones. Emergency responders are arriving on scene, but calls coming in say that they're under fire. We've sent one of ours to protect them, but Azrael's going to need back up." At the mention of his name, Montoya got a little twitchy, knowing in the past that name had been associated with a string of questionable murders against a branch of Falcone's criminal network. Azrael was a killer, no doubt, but he was a criminal killer. Even if Gordon didn't approve, he could admit that Azrael was effective.

"We're also have two agents missing in the field," Batwoman continued.

"Orphan and Spoiler," Red Robin affirmed.

"They were last spotted in the business district near Mayor Sharp's building. Reports suggested he was going to be attacked tonight, so I had them doing recon. We lost contact with them about two hours ago."

"Fire control, emergency responder protection, and search and rescue," Gordon affirmed, his voice hard with dedication. "Anything else we should be expecting?"

"Actually," Nightwing started. "There is something you should know. These fires weren't started on accident. It's Bane." Gordon's heart clenched tightly.

"Who's that," Kid Flash asked, broadcasting his non-existent history with Gotham.

"A crime lord," Gordon oversimplified. "Another thug who thinks he can terrorize the weak. We'll show him that Gotham isn't so weak after all, now won't we." The younger members of the group nodded in agreement, but those who'd experienced Bane before knew it would be easier said than done to bring him in.

"Zzzt- Commissioner, do you copy?" Gordon grabbed his radio

"I copy, Bullock, what's going on out there?"

"Explosions on Arkham Island, sir. Blackgate is reporting the same. There's riots everywhere, and we don't have the manpower to stop these prison breaks and help people inland."

"Can we get some SWAT in there to contain them?"

"Gonna be tricky, they blew the bridges to get there. We'll have to call in a chopper or something, but it's a scramble. Might take a while." Gordon looked up at the speedsters.

"I'm sending some specialists to take care of it, but call the choppers anyway. We'll need them for containment."

"Gotcha, boss. Over." Gordon put his radio back in his jacket.

"Why bother with those criminals if they're stuck on the island," Robin protested.

"Because we've got innocent guards there whose families I don't want to have to call tomorrow," Gordon jabbed. "Batwoman, I know this isn't my call, but-" She cut him off.

"With all due respect sir, it's your city just as much as ours. If you want us somewhere, that's where we'll go." He smiled, glad that she didn't give him a power play at a time like this.

"First thing I want is your speedsters at Blackgate and Arkham. You're the fastest response team, and right now, I need fast."

"On it." And in a flash of electricity they were gone, bolts of lightning separating in the streets in order for each of them to pursue a different of the two island prisons.

"Anything else, Commissioner." He held his hands up, cupping the rain.

"You're all more equipped to handle Bane than the GCPD is. Far as I'm concerned, so long as he's brought in, I don't care how it's done. I'm sending in who I have to start evacuating the East End, try to get some folks to the emergency shelters."

"With all due respect," Nightwing began "I don't think the fires are Bane's only plan. He's trying to take lives tonight, to create fear. I think massing everyone together would only set them up for another attack."

"So you're just saying I should let them fend for themselves?"

"No, but I'm just saying that Bane probably has a few crooked cops in his pocket, men and women who know the basic emergency protocols. He's probably already put a plan in place for those shelters."

"Where are we supposed to go then," Montoya argued.

"I've got it!" Red Robin announced. "If Bane knows about the public shelters, then we'll send the people to hidden shelters." Everyone looked at the boy with confused glances.

"Listen, after the last time The Joker put Gotham in danger, Batman and I created several underground safe houses for public use, that way if anything like this ever happened, we'd have a place to hide people for the night." Gordon nodded in approval, it sounded like something Batman would do.

"Tell us where, and that's where we'll bring them." Red Robin clicked away at his wrist holographic display, and Gordon's cell phone pinged with an address he knew well.

"Walk them into the abandoned subway tunnels, smart move."

"I need to bring back Spoiler and Orphan," Batwoman claimed. "We need them in the field helping us."

"You shouldn't go alone," Red Robin declared. Batwoman didn't argue.

"That just leaves us with finding and stopping Bane."

"I'll do it," Nightwing announced. Robin stepped forward to meet him.

"No offense, but you're nowhere near the combatant I am. If Bane broke The Bat, what chance do you have?" Nightwing paused for, but a second before Robin continued.

"Which is why I'm coming with you. I will avenge my father's legacy against this criminal filth."

"Whatever helps," Nightwing concluded.

"Alright then," Gordon confirmed. "We all have our jobs, let's get to work." The team scattered, each branching off to their side of town. Gordon and Montoya met up in his car, the same beat up vehicle that had brought him to Scarecrow's bomb a few nights earlier. They drove for only a few seconds before Montoya started at him.

"You really trust those guys, don't you Gordon?"

"Without a doubt." He swerved the wheel hard, trying to get to the nearest reported fire site as fast as he could. All he had to do was follow the glowing smoke.

"You really think they can win against Bane?" Gordon's eyes stayed focused on the road.

"They have to. It's not in their nature to lose on nights like these. They'll make it, we just have to be there to help them do it." With that Gordon turned the corner to the nearest fire. He got out of his car and got to work. Tonight was going to be a very long night.


	25. Chapter 24

Chapter Twenty Four

Spoiler shook herself awake. Something had hit her hard in the back of the head, she could feel it throbbing. Feeling the back of her violet hood, she wondered if the moisture she was feeling was blood. No, just some greasy juices from the dumpster she'd been knocked into. Her head was spinning as she tried to get her bearings on what had happened.

They'd been watching Mayor Sharp...Tim had called them about something then bam. Lights out, and now she was here. Looking up she saw that the building above looked familiar. It'd been where she'd been perched, watching and waiting for the action to come to her. It must've found her, because the corner of the building had been blown away, ashes and loose bricks falling from the apartment's cavity. She must've fallen three stories, and had thankfully fallen into the garbage to buffer her fall.

Realizing her face cover had slipped down, she pulled the cloth back over the bridge of her nose. She staggered as her body cried out grievances at her every movement.

"Have to...Tell Tim." She moved her hand to her earpiece, but it was gone. No doubt thrown or destroyed in whatever had launched her from the rooftop. She was in the dark, but she wasn't alone.

"ORPHAN!" Her voiced echoed in the night, rain soaking both her costume and armor padding. She was cold, bruised and there was no response to her outcry. "ORPHAN!" Her legs gave out as she tried to stumble out of the dumpster, falling face first into the gravel ground below. It pressed into her face as she her breathing pulled in speckles of thick dust.

From the corner of her eyes she could see a pillar of orange lit smoke towering into the sky. There was a fire, and it was either really close or really big. Maybe both. That's probably where everyone was, or if not where she needed to be. She needed to-Grrh!

Her legs slipped out from under her again, but she at least managed to get her knees under her this time. It was pathetic, and she cursed herself for it. Weakness wasn't tolerated in the Bat family. Weakness wasn't tolerated anywhere, that's what her father had taught her, all the times he hadn't been in jail.

He'd been a supervillain by the name of Cluemaster, and leaving clues about his crimes were his gimmick. He was never around, always being in and out of jail, but when he did see her, he was hardly ever happy. One day he got the idea to stop leaving clues, but Stephanie could always figure him out. That's why she made her name Spoiler, to give Batman and Robin the clues to her father's crimes. She was probably the reason he was in Blackgate right now. If nothing else, her father taught her it was better to be clever than stronger.

That was it, that's what she had to do. Reaching to her belt, Spoiler took her grapple gun, and hooked the line over and around her utility belt. She fired it, aiming at the building across from her perch, the mayor's office. Her hook was fashioned as a makeshift harness, and once the line was secure, she slowly applied pressure to the trigger, lifting her inch by inch up the side of the building. If her legs couldn't carry her up to get a good view, her tools would.

Getting over the edge of the building was tricky, but in time she got enough of her body weight balanced and flopped over the side to catch her breath. The grapple gun was still latched to the edge, but Stephanie chose instead to unhook it from her belt first, leaving it where it was connected.

She found the strength to stand, and now with a better view of the action, she could start to figure out what had happened. They apartment building she'd been on earlier that night had been hit by something big, and from the look of it, the blast had been from the outside, not from within. It was probably something like a missile or more likely an RPG. Someone in Gotham had military grade weapons. Spoiler had been thrown from the blast, but Orphan...Where had she gone?

Pulling out her infrared binoculars, she surveyed the remainder of the opposite rooftop, perhaps her friend had just been knocked back on the roof itself. No, it didn't look that way. Another quick survey revealed she wasn't lying somewhere around the block either. Whether she was injured or not, Orphan wasn't here anymore. Maybe she'd been moved, or maybe she'd gone on her own, it was impossible to tell. Spoiler couldn't worry about that though.

If someone with military grade weapons had wanted the two of them out of the picture, no doubt the mayor had been attacked too. Probably taken for ransom, that's what Dad would have done. Realizing it'd be a big strain to rappel back down through the building through the window, Stephanie instead decided to retrieve her grapple gun and work her way down the rooftop entrance into the building's stairway.

The sounds of firetrucks and ambulances wailed in the distance, accompanied occasionally by crackling sound of bullet fire. Gotham was going to hell, but Spoiler had to focus. It didn't matter if she was hurt, or if Orphan was missing, or even if she had lost her communicator, she needed to do her job. Hell, even her dislike of Batwoman didn't really matter right now, the two would talk later about compartmentalizing intel. The rooftop entrance had been locked, but as Stephanie began to recover, she picked through it without much of a problem.

She crept her way down the concrete stairs, each foot fall down hitting her legs with another ounce of pain that was starting to pile up. It was steady going, and she thanked her luck that this building was up to code with its support railings that ran the length of the stairs. She noticed something though, the building was eerily quiet. No screams, no calamity, it was as if she was in some sort of sound proof bubble where even the chaos outside couldn't be heard. Something wasn't right.

Stephanie found her way to the floor she knew the mayor would be on. She squeezed open the door with caution, but only shadows flicked around her. She made her way through an abandoned waiting room, lights either flickering or entirely off. This wasn't right, even if the fires had hit Gotham, the Mayor and his secretary would be in a flurry trying to answer phones or coordinate emergency responders. Unless...Something had happened to them too.

Creaking past the heavy wooden door into the Mayor's office, Stephanie Brown her a noise, a wet dripping noise she was horrified to recognize. Opening the doors she saw it, a knife dripping blood over the body of Mayor Sharp. His body was side by side with his secretary's, both their eyes open in a chilling vacant expression. She'd failed.

Standing over them was one of the worst monsters ever to set foot in Gotham. He wore only the orange pants given to him from Arkham Asylum,but his body was anything, but bare. Marked all across his skin were scarred tally marks, everywhere from his hands, over his chest, and even on his face. There were dozens of them, maybe even hundreds. His name was Victor Zsasz, and he had two fresh tallies on his left shoulder, the wounds still oozing blood.

"Hello, little piggy," his voice was sinister, but quiet, as his eyes met hers. "Are you here to join our friends."

"No," She bargained with herself. "You were thrown into Arkham a month ago, I was there!" His slouched back rolled and shivered as he started making slow steps towards her, the only source of light being the faint glow of fire and the occasional crack of fire.

"Oh, sweet , lovely little piggy. He freed me."

"Who?" Zsasz smiled.

"The devil, my dear. And tonight he's going to burn your pathetic city to the ground." Her lunged for her, bloody knife in hand.

Now, on any other day, Zsasz would have been very little threat. His background showed minimal combat expertise, but his knowledge of anatomy was exact. He knew every vein, every artery, every muscle's location. He knew exactly which cuts hurt the most, and which bled the most. He basked in the excellence of murder, believing he was purifying the world with his river of blood. On a normal night, Spoiler was more than his equal. Tonight was not a normal night.

Stephanie Brown threw her body backwards, unable to bring it to run. His leap towards her seemed to happen in horrific slow motion. His face was snarling, but his eyes told her everything. Beyond any shred of humanity, Zsasz wanted with every fiber of himself to kill her, to make his mark once again.

Before he could though, a black figure crashed through the office window, flying and kicking Zsasz across the room and crashing into the wooden paneling of the wall. Whoever they were, they were covered head to toe in a black costume, with a mask fully covering their face. Their frame was small, no bigger than Spoiler was, but their immediate recoil from their entrance was a battle stance. Stephanie realized two things in that moment. Her savior was none other that Orphan, but her friend was injured, a series of bright red lines zagging down over her costume.

"You! Back again are you?!" Zsasz stumbled out from the brittle wall he'd been thrown into. That's where Orphan had gone, she'd been fighting Zsasz, but had been forced to retreat! Only now that Spoiler was in danger had she leapt back into action.

"You save me," Stephanie thanked Orphan.

"Yes." Her nearly mute ally responded. The two stood side by side, their backs to the open window, both ready for a battle of endurance. Zsasz might be just one man, but he was uninjured, and unwinded. At best they had twenty seconds before either Stephanie or Cassandra's body got too tired to properly fight.

"You ready for a fight," Spoiler asked her friend. Orphan nodded, gripping her fists tighter.

"Two brave piggies, two brave marks. I'll enjoy watching you squirm under my blade." He lurched at the two of them, but did not attack, only snarling. Stephanie nearly jumped, but Orphan remained unreadable, especially with her face entirely concealed.

Spoiler was sure that Zsasz would try to draw the fight out as long as possible, pressing his advantage, but in an instant it became clear that his mind and hers were not wired the same way. He swung wildly at them, closing in only to have his blade swatted away by Orphan. She then capitalized on his moment of surprise, wrapping his arms in her own behind his back. Spoiler took this chance, and began wailing on him, gut chest and face. It was as if Orphan was simply holding a punching bag for Spoiler to let out what energy she had left. After a few hard hits to the jaw, Zsasz was out cold, perfectly still as Orphan bound him.

Stephanie, even from the few seconds of fighting was winded. Her fight or flight response was fading, as was her adrenaline, that combined with the exhaustion of falling three stories just about put her at an empty tank. She fell, but Orphan caught her, graceful as ever.

"Sleep." Orphan cooed. As Spoiler obeyed her friend, she saw a shadow blot out the blazing light from beyond the window. A familiar voice called out to her. It was Tim's voice.

"Sorry I'm late. Is she-"

"Fine," Orphan replied. Tim held her in his hands now.

"Hon, I'm sorry I couldn't have-"Spoiler pressed a single finger to his perfect lips.

"Shhh," she said, her mind fuzzy. "You look nice." He cracked a tearful smile. Batwoman was standing behind him, her arms crossed as always. She didn't matter though. Stephanie was in Tim's arms, and besides, it was bedtime now. Time for her to rest for the night.


	26. Chapter 25

Chapter Twenty Five

Fires raging, prisons breaking. Teams uniting. Doesn't matter, doesn't matter. He had to get out, they would be here soon. The Question stuffed handfuls of papers at a time into his duffel bag. They'd come after him tonight, they'd take him far away. Amanda Waller and her Task Force X were more than a match for him physically, it would be over before it even began. That's why he had to make sure it never did.

It wasn't paranoia that was causing his panic, it was simple facts that were tied together. The escalating violence in Gotham had given him a sort of cover, a distraction from prying eyes too busy with super criminals and their trivial attacks on the public to pay him any attention. Amanda Waller, however, was not so easily distracted. ARGUS had practically shut down since the League's disappearance, meaning she was either waiting for those responsible to reveal themselves, or she herself was responsible.

Logic dictated that the latter was far less likely. A woman like Waller would have capitalized on the League's absence, perhaps with a public statement through a representative of ARGUS to encourage the people to trust her and her organization. Instead all she was seemingly committed to was inactivity. No. No, Waller was never inactive, she was plotting, scheming, just like he was. The only difference between the two of them was that while he questioned the system, she **was** the system.

"I need more time." He crumbled a newspaper about a Central City sighting of the "New" Flash into his bag. "Just a little more time." An editorial on the poor Arkham Asylum employee working conditions. Handfuls of papers he'd carefully collected over the years were thrown into his bag like trash. That's what he wanted, for it to look like just trash. If he was to be caught, which inevitably he would be, he couldn't let allow anyone to know what he'd uncovered. As The Question grabbed another of many thousands of articles, he realized something.

" 'Abra Kadabra's Disappearing Act'. It was from three days ago, an article about how the Titans proper had defeated a time travelling wizard of sorts. He'd been sent back through time, but STAR Labs had obtained his wand. The Titans gave a statement about how Abra Kadabra had actually just been using technology from a distant future to make it appear as if he'd been using magic. So his wand had been the source of his power and STAR Labs now owned the wand.

"Wait a second" He pulled another article out of his bag, and spread it out of the table, dated from three weeks ago, and only one week before the League had gone missing.

" 'STAR Labs partners with U.S Gov't', no. No no NO! How could I be so stupid! The U.S Government would only be interested in STAR Labs as a front to research meta humans. It's nearly impossible to believe that the United States wouldn't have a vested interest in their technologies. **If** the government was researching meta human genes and abilities, there is only one person they would turn to. The same person who they'd turned to during the Maxwell Lord incident in January. Waller."

He cursed himself for not seeing this earlier, but knew exactly why. He'd gone through every single factoid that affected the heroes and villains of Earth that had occurred over the last fourteen days,and even some of the larger events prior. In his quest to find a big linchpin holding this global conspiracy together, he'd overlooked the smaller happenings. In short, the reason for his shortcoming now was because he hadn't been paranoid enough.

His mind raced, units of knowledge rotating with new meaning in his head. Coursing his fingers through his hair in handfuls, The Question was frantically trying to decipher this new mystery.

"Let me think, let me think! What does it all mean?! Fact: Kadabra's wand is centuries in the future, with capabilities so advanced it appears as magic. It was left behind, while Kadabra was sent back through the time stream by The Titans. Fact: The wand was given to Star Labs, who is now possessed by the U.S. Government, no doubt spearheaded by Waller's direction. Reason stands to assume that the President would order all objects of power to Argus, especially after her actions during the Maxwell Lord crisis in D.C." The Question dropped his bag altogether, and grabbing a large black marker began drawing a web of names and circles across the newspaper clippings that were stapled across his walls.

"The Wand from the future. Argus. The League's disappearance. The more coordinated attack on Gotham tonight. Luthor's investment in security personnel. The copycat Batman. The "New" Flash's sudden appearance. Yes, Yes! It's all creating a picture!"

Furiously, with sweat beating down his brow, The Question scribbled name after name over now trivial pieces of information. Not even the pulsing slits of fire light between his boarded windows could distract him now.

"Task Force X. The escape of heroin dealer Jonathan Bigby. The planned execution of Pamela Isley. Oh yes, I can feel it. It's so close!" The Question felt his mind processing and recalling information at lightning speeds. It was like seeing images flying by on a bullet train, but still comprehending everyone of them. His grip on the marker began was ironclad, as his arm raced to keep up with his mind.

"Detective Montoya. Disappearances unrelated to the League. The remaining Atlanteans returning to the sea. Villain attacks of seemingly little efficiency. Yes! That's it! THAT'S IT! The super villain attacks leading up to tonight weren't random. Across the nation these attacks have been intended not for any one objective, but for maximum fear and chaos. They were a show of force, but tonight is different. It's been planned, coordinated to the letter. It all makes sense now- Luthor's brush with death, Waller's apparent fear, tonight's organized attacks. Someone is coordinating super villains on a massive scale, and it isn't Waller. Right now everyone in the city is being played."

The Question heard sirens whizzing past his building, breaking him out of his flurry to realize the structured web he'd written across his walls. It looked like the ravings of a madman, but he understood it perfectly.

"The guerrilla nature of tonight's attacks suggest someone with both a ruthless mind and a better understanding of Gotham's infrastructure, placing them at either Ras al Ghul, or Bane. Scratch that, innocents are in the greatest danger tonight, not criminals. Ras al Ghul, for all his faults does not murder children. It's Bane then, but if everything here is true, then he isn't working alone."

There was a heavy slam on his floor, jolting him to realize Waller's forces were at his doorstep. "No! Stupid Stupid Stupid!" The Question was thankful he'd thought ahead, screwing three heavy planks of wood across the door's frame. He knew if he hadn't, the battering ram they were no doubt using would have allowed Argus to enter after the first bash.

"No! I just need more time!" The Question threw on his coat and his hat, pulling a makeshift gun out of his jacket. The pockets were still heavy with other tools he could use to change the situation in his favor. Try as he might, he was no Batman and had no utility belt that could somehow solve any situation. All he did have were a few cheap tricks and his mind.

The Question flipped his desk, sending papers flying as he took cover at a sharp angle around the corner of the doorway. Wood cracked, then after another second exploded in a shower of splinter. Then he heard it, a deep monstrous snarl as heavy feet shook the rickety floor with every step. No, he thought. With any standard Argus soldiers, he might've had a chance. Unfortunately, Waller hadn't sent soldiers, she'd sent her Suicide Squad instead.

Peering just around the corner where The Question stood, Killer Croc made his hulking presence known. Knowing nothing of basic room clearing maneuvers, The Question used his angle, as well as the element of surprise to his advantage and fired directly at Croc's skull. His makeshift weapon, instead of firing bullets or anything of the sort, launched a full canister of The Question's personal gas concoction, one which his Pseudoderm mask automatically was able to filter based on its material composition.

The fragile shell flung itself into the air from The Question's hidden vantage point, landing right on the mark. A dense green smoke erupted from the unsuspecting Croc's face, causing him to snarl once more. He was pissed, and The Question wasn't certain if Waylon Jones's improved endurance was capable of overpowering the sedative. So he did the only thing he could do, he ran.

Of all the windows in his apartment, The Question had boarded up all, but one. This was his emergency window, one that had been painted over in black paint to still avoid prying eyes. The Question threw his body at the pane in a curled ball, as his immediate pursuer was dazed. The glass shattered around him, full well acknowledging he'd left his bag behind. It didn't matter now, they were all clues to a mystery he'd already solved. He just needed to escape, he needed to tell Dick Grayson that-

A single gunshot echoed through the street, as The Question was blasted midair. He'd been shot, and by someone with incredible aim. His body spiraled out of his professional positioning, and the momentum carried him off course. The Question **had** been set up to land in a dumpster across the alleyway, but now found himself landing hard on solid concrete.

Bones cracked, and his body felt the full force of falling two stories. The bullet hole through his left foot didn't help either. The Question knew the bullet's exact placement had been calculated with uncanny efficiency. It wasn't meant to kill, easily treatable provided he received medical attention soon. No, Deadshot had meant to stop him from running, without any intention to kill. Which could only mean one thing. Waller wanted him alive.

Before he could even stand, The Question found himself flanked on either side by people he knew quite well.

"Stand down, Question," Rick Flagg said in his hearty commander voice. "We don't want to have to hurt you any more than necessary." Harley Quinn and Captain Boomerang stood at his sides. Smart, Croc to flush me out, Deadshot to wound me, and the rest to secure the capture. Hold on now, that was odd…

"Where's the Enchantress, Rick." The Question was distressed for sure, but he needed answers.

"Who?"

"Don't play coy with me soldier boy. I know all about your operation. Everyone knows. Your little team is no big secret, and the whole world knows it," he lied. "The Enchantress-" The Question got up to his knees, staring up at Rick Flagg through his faceless expression with absolute disdain. He was quite literally staring down the barrel of a gun for answers.

"She's at home getting some R&R mister faceless man," Harley Quinn cooed.

"QUINN!" Rick barked. The clown princess hid behind her over sized mallet, but still continued to watch the situation with great interest.

"R&R? Tell me why she'd need to rest if she hasn't been on a single operation for months."

"Quiet!"

"No. You listen to me! I know what's happening here, Flagg and I won't be-" The last thing The Question saw that night was the but of Colonel Flagg's gun bash into the side of his head.


	27. Chapter 26

Chapter Twenty Six

"Damn." John Constantine was standing in a building he often found himself in, a morgue. His eyes looked over the cold body of Ted Grant, the formerly the last living Justice Society member and the only one who knew where to find Dr. Fate's helmet. "Real sorry mate, but you understand why I've got to do this."

John reached into his jacket and pulled out one of the several trinkets he'd brought with him, the Hand of Morrighan. It was an actual hand too, but the skin was sunken and grey, the nails still sharp, overgrown, and somehow oily. It was said that Morrighan was a Celtic god of Death, and that burning her nails would allow the user to speak with the dead. There was a catch though, as there always was with magic. Those brought back would have to be a true warrior for the ritual to even work in the first place, and once it did they'd be forced to relive their memory of their death all over again. Constantine hated using this item, but he needed answers. While he'd never actually met Ted Grant, he'd heard a lot about him from the grapevine. Good man, but a better boxer. Hopefully that would translate to true warrior status, or else Ted would be forced to die all over again for nothing. He'd only get one shot at this.

The nails were lit, and John spoke the words, as he had only a couple times before. The magical energies around him spiraled, as the shadows of the room flushed towards the Hand. Ted Grant's body spasmed and croaked like some sort of wicked phantom. His eyes shot open, a spectral white that starred through John's soul. He was gasping for breath.

Dormant souls around John whisped at him in a cacophony of voices, but the exorcist ignored them. If he lost his concentration, the flames would go out, and he'd lose his only chance at finding the helmet. John held down Ted's heavy physique the best he could, but the brutish man tossed him aside in agony. One of the flames went out.

"Ted Grant, my name is John Constantine!" The voices of the many dormant souls that had once seen these walls were growing louder. They were begging to be released. Ted's voice croaked and cried, body unable to lift itself from the table. It was an unstable condition, not wanting to die, but without the strength to live.

"Save me. Please save me," Ted's raspy voice begged.

"I will," John lied. "But first I need your help. I need to find Kent Nelson-where is Doctor Fate?" Another candle went out, only three left to go.

"Doctor? The doctor is alive?"

"Yes, yes he's alive and I need you to help me-"

"No, he's gone. The helmet-"

"Yes, the helmet I need to find-"

"It's missing. Kent Nelson was killed." The souls surrounding them were growing desperate, cries of anguish bleeding into their conversation. Two fires left.

"Killed? Who-who killed Kent Nelson?" The doors behind Constantine burst open, a doctor pushing a stretcher looking at John with a great deal of confusion. One more flame.

"Hey! You're not supposed to be in here!" John realized all the doctor could see was some lunatic with a burning hand talking with a dead man. Hell, he probably didn't even notice Ted was living. John pushed him out of his mind. He needed Ted's answer.

"Where's the helmet?! Tell me where it is!" Ted's voice began fading as the candle the last fire began to die out. His voice trailed, but still managed to whisper a response.

"...the demon's head…" Ted's body spasmed hard, almost sliding off of his table. The Hand was out of time, and so was John.

"Sir, I need you to-" Constantine shot him a bitter glare while Grant's body physically convulsed. He was being killed all over again, his chest jerking itself at the mental reactions of being shot all over again. He hated this part.

"Do you have any idea what you just did?"

"I-"

"That man just gave his life, **again** , so that I could get some bloody answers and you turned it all to shite!" John didn't recall how, but it seemed in his anger he'd crossed the room to the mortician and had taken him by his white coat.

"Get out of this building right now before I call the police!" John realized how absurd he must've looked, but he never cared much for his image. John unhanded him.

"Was just leaving anyway." He went back to the table and went to grab the Hand of Morrighan when the doctor cried out.

"My god! Did you-"

"What? Oh, I see. You think I came up in here and chopped one of them u, is that it?" The mortician didn't answer, already whipping out his cell phone to call the police.

"Ah, to hell with it." Constantine bull rushed past the guard, shoving him into the wall beside the exit. Zagging around several corners, John made his way out onto the streets of Manhattan.

Although John had a keen dislike of hospitals, he would've much preferred them to the midnight chaos on the streets at present. Looters interbred with mass rioters as police captains were trying to keep order to no avail. It was days like these were John wondered if Hell had finally spilled over. Was everyone really so terrified because of of the loss of a few cape and tight types?

Shuffling in file, John stuffed his hands in his pockets and kept his head down. As he'd come to learn, when the bobbies were called it was usually best to keep your mouth shut. The crowds were throwing their tantrum, but somehow allowed Constantine to pass right through them with only minor bumps and brushes. The streets were so packed, traffic was at a standstill. In all, it would have been amusing if it hadn't been so pathetic.

John made his way to a forgotten alleyway, hoping to get some peace and quiet to perform his transporter ritual again. He'd need to go back to the House of Mystery to read up on this "Demon's Head," whatever it was. It was a loose lead, but it was better than nothing. Unfortunately, he had more immediate worries.

"John fucking Constantine!" Turning fast, John found himself cornered by three heavyset looking in leather jackets. To his dismay he recognized the one in the middle, a stout man with goatee and a scar of stitches over their bald head.

"Hiya Lance," John said weakly. "It's been awhile."

"You hear that men, says it's been a while?" They all started chuckling, moving closer. "It's a pretty good joke, that one. See, it ain't been so long that the wounds have healed, has it?" It pointed up, referring to the stitches.

"Yeah, really sorry about that mate."

"No, I don't think you are." John really did not have time for this.

"Look, give me my lumps and be done with it, will yeah? I've got my late night shows I just can't miss." One of the side men laughed, but Lance beat his arm, silencing him.

"Oh no, Johnny boy. You ain't gettin off that easy. We know all 'bout them magic you does. How you think you're so great cause you can throw a little fire. Well guess what-" Lance pulled out a handgun from his jacket, "-you ain't so big and bad after all."

"Look boys, I can get you your money if that's what you-" The crowd behind them began roaring even louder, no doubt at some interaction with the police.

"No chance I'm letting you walk out on me again, Johnny. Say goodnight."

"Lance, if you'll just-" The gunshot was practically synchronized with the police firing tear gas into the crowds. Screaming rang in every direction, as John slumped his back against a brick wall. His head thwacked his head back from the force of being shot, but all the same he was smiling.

Hell, he was almost laughing.

"What's so funny, con man? You think getting shot by the king of the block is something to joke about?" John beamed, his hand dropping an trinket to the ground.

"What's that? What's that there, boss?" John began reciting the words softly, his mouth hardly moving.

"What's that, boy? Speak up and I might even drag your sorry ass to the hospital?" Constantine smile at the sentiment, but finished the words. It wasn't the first time John had found himself bleeding in some alley, and odds are it wouldn't be the last. A fiery vortex open up in front of John, a portal which was summoning John's ace in the hole.

A yellow scaled hand clutched the outer boundaries of the portal. The creature huffed a single breath of fire, as his humanoid stature skulked out from the abyss. It looked as if someone had infused a man and a dragon into a singular and armored creature of pure rage.

"Boss, what the hell is that thing?" Then, as if on command, Constantine's aid began to speak.

"Free the might from fleshy mire. Boil the blood in heart of fire. Gone, gone the form of man. Arise the Demon Etrigan!" Etrigan bellowed in a fiery war cry.

Lance and his men ran for the cover of the crowd like moths to a flame. The demon snatched their leader before he could escape, his screams of terror drowned out by the crowds ahead. His goons didn't even look back.

Etrigan slammed him from wall to wall, grisly and satanic rage bellowing with every movement. Poor Lance was shaking in his jacket, trying his best to bargain and not seem weak.

"Please, please whatever you want, it's yours! Just let me go?"

"With hellspawns fury, I do thrive. I see no reason for you to survive."

"Let him go, Etrigan. Just drop him." The beast's neck bent crooked in confusion.

"I would not think your heart so clean, your soul being that of Constantine."

"I said drop him, mate. He's learned his lesson, so long as he swears to get me to a damned infirmary." Lance nodded so fast, John thought his head might pop off. "That's a good lad, now shoo." Etrigan let Lance go, the sorry bloke scrambling to find a medical professional for fear of hellish torment.

"Pray tell why you choose to fall, when no closer to death is your crawl." Etrigan was right, of course. John hadn't been shot, not really. At the last second he'd held something close to his chest, one of several trinkets he'd brought with him.

"Oh that? Is just the Ward of the Winds is all. I put a lil magic in it and suddenly a threshold grows around me. Acts as a sort of barrier, making everything that travels to fast towards me turn into wind. All that hit me was a breeze, but still one big enough to knock me on my ass. All it took for me to summon you was a few words though, eh? Good thing only a few sorry folks know them, right Blood?" Constantine gave a cheery smile as he rose from the ground.

"Jason Blood, my mortal part, is no longer within my heart." John's face narrowed.

"I'm sorry, it must be the concussion, but did you just say Jason is gone?"

"Jason Blood, an immortal man, is no longer half of Etrigan." Even the foul creature held a solemn look.

"That's not possible, I spoke with Jason just a few days ago. Who was I talking to then, Etrigan?"

"Voices hold faces they try to steal, Our Blood I feel they do conceal."

"Damn bastards. Someone's been throwing me off somehow. Who took him and how could they've possibly separated the two of you?"

"A green wave across the sky did thunder, stealing his soul to tear us asunder."

"Wait, a green wave! Just like what I saw." John began putting the pieces together. If someone was targeting magic users like Zatanna and Swamp Thing, it figured that the dual souls of Etrigan and Jason Blood were likely on the same check list. But even still whatever could pull off either of those feats, let alone both, had a magical competence that was unheard of. Even if the two had been the same spell, to separate Etrigan so nonchalantly was unimaginable to do with magic. That was of course assuming that whatever this was had in fact been magic.

"Why are you still here on Earth then you poor bastard?"

"Ripped from Earth I was that day, only to return today. On this plane I cannot stay, lest a mortal mark my way." John understood it now. When the wave hit, Jason was taken away with Z and the others, but the demon Etrigan was thrown back to hell to await another summoning. Thankfully the number of people who knew that particular summoning was very small indeed. Etrigan had that nasty habit of being a demon to whoever tagged him first. If someone had wanted to use Etrigan against John, no personal relationship would stop the demon from acting on his master's whim.

"Completed my orders I have done. Ready I am to leave this one." Etrigan began to step back into his gateway, but John stopped him with all the magic he could muster. It wasn't so much pushing him away as it was blocking his exit.

"One last thing and you're done here. I need to know everything you know about something called the demon's head. Come on, help a bleeding sod out, would yea?"

"The demon's head is no thing or place, but a twisted mortal face. Find the answers which you seek near the highest mountain peak. My answers here end my quest, I wish your soul the very best." And with that, Etrigan left John bleeding in his alley.

In no short amount of time, Lance came running back with a couple of EMT's who got to work on a barely conscious John. As they lifted him up, they were surprised to see John wave them away,recovering the Ward and lighting a cigarette as he walked back into the chaos of the streets. The emergency responders started feverishly questioning Lance, but Constantine was too preoccupied to even enjoy it. He casually stepped past protesters, looters, and riot shield officers, his mind transfixed on the bigger picture.

The Himalayas, he thought. That's where the helmet's going to be. Two leads were burnt now, but between the demon's head and the planet's highest peak John Constantine knew the man he was looking for. No one special, just the master of the League of Assassins, Ras al Ghul. What could go wrong with that?


	28. Chapter 27

Chapter Twenty Seven

Metropolis was **his** city. No one, not the public, not the press, and not even Superman could stop him from achieving that goal. Now it was his alone, but it was time for the real work to begin. Lex Luthor would now need to keep the peace he had so desperately forged throughout his years as an entrepreneur. Nothing would take this away from him, not even the anarchy below.

Lex stared over the city's night life, far more vibrant than any night before it. Violent, yes, but vibrant nonetheless. There was an attractive quality to this sort of action, the people terrified into action thinking ti would keep them safe. It seemed that two weeks without a hero to look up to made them panic, and the situation in Gotham was only escalating things. The smokestacks from their fires could be seen even from his tower miles away. In order to help them however, Lex would need to save **his** city first.

Walking to the back wall of his office, Lex pressed his finger against the hidden print scanner that rested against the black marble wall. The wall opened back, revealing his upgraded power suit, now complete with the Kryptonian seal that Superman wore. Yes, that symbol for hope, the last dying word from his long forgotten people. It practically forged his name for him, the Superman. In his absence, Lex knew it was time for the new Superman to be just that, a man. Earth would no longer be protected by an alien from a destroyed planet, but by one of its own. Even if the two had worked with one another in recent months, Luthor had maintained his presence on humans handling their own affairs, not outsiders. The streets below were in a frenzy. This looked like a job for Superman.

It took only mere moments for the custom flex LexCorp technology to fit around him like a glove. In no time at all, his access tunnel within his office fired him into the sky like a torpedo. He activated his rocket boots, and soared through the sky like the Man of Tomorrow before him. While his suit was mostly made from LexCorp upgrades, the power source was a Motherbox, a technology recovered from the aftermath of last Darkseid's invasion of Earth.

Lex had no fond memories of that day, as Darkseid had been the League's most powerful foe. He could summon armies, and like powerful beings foreign to Earth, claimed himself as a God. Luthor knew better, and during the incursion he discovered the source of the fiends influence. Motherboxes, items able to bend reality to do practically anything. The hero Cyborg had used them in the past to teleport using fields known as Boom Tubes, but Lex used them for something more ambitious, a self sustaining and unlimited energy source. By tapping into his Motherbox within his suit, Lex could rival the might of Superman himself, not that the League ever knew he had it to begin with. After all, he was on their side after all.

Landing at the head of the chaos, Lex found himself at the police blockade. He found the chief in charge, her kevlar vest worn over her blue button up.

"Captain Sawyer, what's the situation." She put a hand on one hip, sneering up at his now large frame.

"Lex Luthor, gracing us with your presence yet again. You here to pose or work?"

"I'm here to help, however I can." A glass bottle clashed with the hardly visible dome shield that protected Luthor's face. It was made out of transmatter energy that only made itself even partially visible when it was being tested. To all onlookers, the bottle had merely crashed against nothing at all, still inches away from Luthor. The glass shards crumbled to pieces on the floor, leaving Sawyer to cuss and Lex unphased.

"You can start by calming these folks down."

"What are they mad about, Captain?"

"Something to do with a general lack of safety. Think the police can't handle metahuman threats." He turned to face the crowd, but his eyes stayed on her.

"They're not wrong. If an attack were ever to come, you would be sorely outclassed in every way."

"Hey," she spat back. "We've done just fine so far, and in case you haven't noticed Metropolis was here a long time before Superman." Lex grinned.

"Yes, but unless you listen to the people, it might not be here much longer." His suit stamped its way to the raving crowds. Lex activated his suits loudspeaker.

"Everyone, please remain calm. I'm here as one of you to help."

"Fat chance," a voice cried out. "You're not one of us, you're the 1%! You don't care about us or our lives, all you care about is money!" The crowd cheered on the jeering, but Lex let it slide off his shoulder.

"Please, I only want to help this city. I pledge myself to protecting you from all threats that face this wonderful city. Take heed, we are **not** Gotham, nor will we ever be." The crowd began to noticeably calm, but only by a slim margin. They'd still take his head given the chance.

"I want nothing more than to help Metropolis, which is why I've recently donated over ten million dollars to local homeless shelters and soup kitchens, as well as another ten million to improving our infrastructure."

"Doesn't sound like a hero, sounds more like a sales pitch to me!"

"Yeah, what is this? You running for president or something?"

"Get out of here with that bullshit!" He was losing them.

"Lex," Sawyer was right behind him. "I think you better leave, you're only making this worse.

An explosion shredded a building side down the road, sending the masses scattering. Luthor didn't say a word, propelling himself to the source. He'd seen some sort of projectile hit the building side, and if his math was correct, the skyscraper did not suffer any foundational damage. It would remain standing, if only just. The blast, whatever it had been had made contact on the third floor, meaning it was unlikely it had come from the crowd without notice. He was still looking for the attacker when he heard a cackling laughter.

"Luthor!" Around the corner of Centennial Lex found the culprit, a metal android that had made a name for himself fighting the Man of Steel.

"Metallo," Lex said calmly. "Haven't you heard, Superman is dead. The Kryptonite that powers your body is useless."

"I wouldn't be so sure." The crowds were now parting the streets, knowing a metahuman brawl was about to begin. "I've found that it's quite an amazing power generator, but I don't have to tell you about the miracles of Kryptonite, do I." The streets were now clear, the people for all of their faults, were now out of harm's way.

"I'll give you one chance, Metallo. Leave now, or suffer my wrath." The machine cackled it's robotic laugh.

"The great Lex Luthor is giving me a chance to surrender? What happened to you? We used to be a team! You used to be one of us!" Lex's eyes narrowed.

"Things change." Metallo shifted his shoulders in a near human way.

"Yeah, I guess they do. Sorry about this Lex."

"No you're not."

"Yeah, I guess you're right." And in the blink of an eye the two were charging down the city street towards one another.

Metallo's fist collided with Lex's repulsive shield, and the billionaire countered with a rocket punch of his own. The metal man went flying down the road and slid through concrete. He adjusted his steel jaw in annoyance.

"Nice bite, Lex. You might actually be worth my time." Luthor stood over his adversary.

"Come off it, you know you can't win like this. You're smarter than this Corben, so what gives?" Metallo cracked a smile.

"You always were too smart." He went to sweep Luthor's legs with his own, but swept through air. Lex had kicked his rocket boots on at just the right moment, not towering even higher than he had before. "But did you really think I'd fight **you** alone?"

Lex's shield took a huge hit, as a large metal something crashed against his shield with a concussive force. It sent him flying away, only to regain his composure a moment later. Someone or something had tossed a car at him like a beach ball, putting a decent strain on his shield all at once.

"Luthor," Metallo called to him. "You've met my friend here. Goes by the name of Solomon Grundy." Next to Metallo was the hulking undead brute he was referring to. LexCorp had in its records that Grundy could be killed, but only to return in time. A self resurrecting member of the undead, with the strength to crush tanks. It was a good thing he was as foolish as a dead man too. Grundy roared like a carnal beast, as if to illustrate Luthor's point.

"Still think you're Superman, Lex?" It didn't take long for Luthor to put two and two together. It all felt so obvious.

"So, how did Savage convince you to come after me?" Metallo smiled again.

"Like I said, too smart. It doesn't take a whole lot of convincing when you see the big picture the way he does."

"Oh, and what picture is that?"

"Sorry, that's members only info, and you uninvited yourself."

"Then what are you waiting for? Do what you're here to do!" Grundy and Metallo charged in unison, as Lex activated his suits Motherbox. Even then, the odds of him winning were low. One on one with either of them was no small feat, but both at once, no, he'd need to be at his best and then some.

"Raaaghh!" Grundy pounded against Lex's shield, only for Lex to blast him back with his hand held energy blasts. Grundy slid back only a few inches, giving room for Metallo to launch a volley of small missile directly from his chassis.

Luthor, not wanting to have to take unnecessary damage to his shield, powered up his boots and flew across the side of nearby building, its structure taking the brunt of the damage. Lex opened his comm channel.

"Sawyer!"

"Lex, how did you-"

"No time, if you still want to help, get the people to safety. I'll distract these would be villains from your retreat." Luthor clicked off before she could give a response, and hoped she would obey his command.

Grundy leapt high into the air, and came down in an arc holding two fists over his head. In a fast calculation, Luthor used his energy projectors to push himself backwards to avoid the attack, rather than blast Grundy away. With the undead creature's size, speed, and volume, it'd be doubtful that an attack would have altered his downward arc.

The brute came crashing down hard, splitting pavement in a wave of chunks. Lex's tried activating his shoulder mounted turrets to counter Grundy's wide attack, but Metallo was already on him. The android began pummeling his shield again and again, doing now visual damage, but the force was taxing the suits systems.

Lex powered a palm blast into Metallo's face, stunning him with both light and a dazing concussive force. Luthor capitalized on this by power his backhand with an energy propulsion, giving it enough to send Metallo toppling across the concrete yet again.

Luthor turned his attention forward just a split second too late, as Grundy was already back on him, two hands ready to collide with Lex's skull. Raising his hands high, Luthor took hold of Grundy's wrists, trying to stop the blow. Both opponents pushed against on another with tremendous force, as Lex was forced to take a knee. The ground beneath him gave, and the two collapsed separately into one of the city's sewage tunnels.

Sloshing through filth, Lex found that his shield systems were already at eighteen raised his hands in a boxing stance, his mind calculating his surroundings. Grundy, not looking deterred in the slightest charged Lex with a roar. Without engaging, Lex fired a single shoulder cannon blast at the concrete and rebar above his adversary's head, bringing it crumbling on top of him.

Luthor dug through the rubble atop the beast and took the stunned creature by the throat. If he would just return, surely there was no cruelty in killing him here and now. Fist after fist, Lex beat into the unprotected mongrel's face until he looked thoroughly beaten.

"That just leaves-" A green blast of energy enveloped Lex's entire shield, sending shockwaves of visceral pain through his body. The blast had come from above, ending at the same point Luthor's shield had lost its charge.

Looking up, Metallo was standing over Luthor, his core kryptonite crystal exposed, but only to produce the type of energy he'd just created. However, it would only take a single hit to end Metallo here and now.

"Look at the great Lex Luthor now, covered in piss and shit. The color suits you."

"Tell me, Metallo. Why? Why the theatrics?"

"Huh?"

"You could have taken out a city block with your arsenal, killed countless, but current emergency reports claim minimal casualties for the kind of attacks you can make. You weren't actually trying to kill anyone, were you? Just trying to get my attention."

"Like I said Lex-" A shadow loomed over from behind Lex, but he wasn't able to react fast enough. Grundy had Luthor's entire skull in a closed fist. "-you're too smart."


	29. Chapter 28

Chapter Twenty Eight

Flying over the slick wet rooftops of Gotham city, Damian Wayne traveled side by side with Dick Grayson. They were close on Bane's trail, they had to be. Batwoman had pointed them in the direction of the King Brown, the freighter she'd been shot by Jason Todd in. Damian had mixed feelings for Jason. They'd met very few times, but when they had their ideologies were similar, at least Damian's old ideals. Jason wanted nothing more than for criminals to get their due, to meet their end at the hands of justice, but even for all of Damian's hate he couldn't feel that anymore. That was Ras al Ghul's teachings, and he was no longer his grandfather's heir. He was the Son of Batman, and he would prove it tonight by putting Bane in his place.

"Nightwing, Robin. Status report." Batwoman's voice was cold, but it had to be. Damian had done his research and knew her file well. She was one of the few he actually respected here in Gotham.

"We're still making our way to the boardwalk, but it's taking time," Nightwing responded, short of breath due in no small part to the rooftop tumbling the two were both engaged in.

"We need you there now. We've got the apartment fires under control, but between the Arkham, Blackgate, and the Mayor's death I'm not sure we can keep the people of Gotham from tearing itself apart. Spoiler is heading back to the cave for Alfred to-"

"That good man is done helping us," Dick interrupted. "Get her in civvies and take her to Gotham General. Alfred has been through hell, not just in the last few weeks, but in the last few decades."

"Nightwing, you shouldn't-"

"I don't want you to bring Alfred into this, Kate. He's helped us enough. Let him rest." Damian wasn't sure if he was angry at Grayson for removing an ally from the board, or thankful that his caretaker was no longer required to work.

"Fine, I'll have Orphan take her, but that means you won't have any back up once you find Bane. The speedsters have their hands full at the asylum and Blackgate. Azrael is a little banged up too, some of Falcone's men caught him from behind. He's still here with me, but things are getting out of hand.

"It's going to be okay," Grayson responded, his voice ringing strong with conviction, something he hadn't seen Dick have in quite a while. "If we can get Gordon to the head of the trouble, he'll calm them down."

"I don't see what he could-"

"With all due respect, I know this city and these streets better than anyone on patrol tonight. I know Gotham's allegiance to their police commissioner is rivaled only by their loyalty to Batman himself. Keep Gordon safe, Kane, and get him to where he can do the most good." Damian wasn't sure if he heard Batwoman grumble or grunt in approval, but she gave him an affirmative before clicking away. Whatever had given Nightwing his balls back, Damian was glad it had happened tonight.

"Grayson?" The two were easily able to maintain this conversation, even while zip lining through the roaring rain and lightning.

"Yea?"

"Why did you do it?"

"Do what?"

"Why'd you give up being Batman?" Inheriting the mantle was all Damian had ever wanted to be since he'd first arrived in Gotham, but it'd always been assumed that Grayson was first in line for the mantle. He'd been a most obvious copycat for a while there, but just as fast as he'd left it, he'd returned to his old uniform. Why? Why would someone not **want** to be Batman? Dick was quiet for just a moment as the pier got closer and closer.

"It wasn't about giving up on being Batman, it was about what was best for the city and what was best for me."

"So what's the problem, Batman will always be what this city needs."

"I don't think so. I think we can do better than our father."

" **My** father, Grayson. You may have been his first son, but I'm his **blood**."

"Relax, Damian, I didn't mean anything by it. Can you see what I'm saying though?"

"No. Batman inspires fear in the crime and filth of Gotham, fear that paralyzes them from acting. It makes them think twice."

"Do you really think that Bane thought twice about burning those apartments, let alone freeing Zsasz to butcher the mayor. I've been doing some soul searching over the past few weeks and I don't think this is what he had intended for us."

"I don't understand."

"It's one of the reasons I gave up being Robin in the first place. Bruce...Batman, for all his strengths had one unyielding weakness. He was stuck in the past, shaped and molded by tragedy. His sole reason for his war on crime was because it was something he swore to do when he was eight years old. I don't think even he realizes it, but he never got over his parents' deaths, he never let them go."

"And you could? Pain makes us stronger, or have you forgotten your training?"

"Pain only works when you work on getting better. He always told me that the reason we fall is to pick ourselves back up, but ever since the day I met him, I don't think he was ever standing." Grayson was irritating Damian, but … He might have had a point. His father was wise, but he could hardly be considered nurturing. He fought for the right reasons, there was no doubt about that, but Robin knew that his father did not inspire hope the way others like the Flash and Superman did. Was Nightwing trying to do just that, inspire others?

"Are you trying to tell me my father was a coward, Grayson?"

"No, he could stare death in the face every day of his life and still feel he hadn't done enough. That's not the point though. It's one thing to be brave, it's another to really help those in need."

"You're a sap, Grayson. Sentimental and naive."

"Maybe. Maybe not." The two arrived at the boardwalk, overlooking the King's Brown ship itself. "We can talk about this later." Damian leapt off to reach their destination.

"Or never again," the boy responded.

The two made their approach cautiously, scouting and scanning the ship before entering. It was impossible to tell what was inside, as the bulkhead was so thick it prevented thermal imaging from detecting who, if anyone, was on board. This ship was just a starting point for the trail to find Bane, the first of many locations to search tonight. With little information actually gained from the preliminary scouting, Nightwing and Robin made their way onto the ship.

At first they were afraid the entrance was trapped, but found none. They were able to pick the captain's cabins lock and found it void of any sort of documents. Someone had cleaned through,professionally. Not so much as a sticky note to point them in a general direction.

Most of the ship ended up like this too, abandoned and musty like every room before it. It was at the very base of the vessel that this changed. In the dead center of the lower cargo bay, a solidary shipping container had been left. It was off though, Damian could sense a trap simply from the perfect placement of the large metal box. Eyeing it from every angle, both he and Dick couldn't find any reason not to open it up, their search in a desperate crunch for time. They had to take every precaution, but every moment they did lives were being threatened or lost in the city. The two couldn't just rush in either, because if they were to get hurt, well then they'd just be numbers added to the statistics. His father taught him that, as well as the skill of focusing one's mind on the task at hand instead of what was at stake. Job first, analyze the vast array of consequences later.

It was their last lead, a container so clean and measured that was practically inviting them to unlock its metal hatch. Dick took hold, and removed the metal bar holding the door to its frame. The rod slid out with an eerie whine, and just as it cleared its path, the door swung open with a burst of force.

Robin pulled out his katana as he jumped backwards into a battle stance, Nightwing doing the same with his batons. The two were shocked to find a well armored man in a brown jacket leveling two handguns at them. It was Jason Todd himself, wearing his ever famous Red Hood. Realizing the mistake, Jason lowered his weapons, apparently expecting the doors to be opened by an enemy.

"God, you two scared the shit out of me."

"What they hell are you doing here?!" Nightwing correctly inquired. Jason Todd, while not necessarily one of Batman's enemies, was far from a family friend. At every turn this failed Robin tainted the legacy of Batman by killing and butchering his way to victory. If Damian had been five years younger, he might have been more sympathetic to Todd's morality on killing, but that wasn't his father's way. It was the same methodology of the League of Assassins, his grandfather's cult, and one that Damian no longer condoned.

"Nightwing, quick we need to move. Bane is mounting an assault on the Gotham Radio Tower. He wants to isolated the city!" Jason began running, and Nightwing was following him with questions, but Damian remained still.

"Hold up, this isn't right." The masked Jason tried to keep walking, but Nightwing looked back.

"What's wrong?"

"This doesn't add up. Red Hood just given to us, as if forgotten by our adversaries. Unlikely. Also he seems in an awful rush to leave instead of talking right here and now."

"Of course I am, we need to stop Bane right now if we have any-"

"He also wasn't the slightest bit surprised that you were here." He pointed to Dick, who was starting to put the pieces together the same as Damian. Grayson gave the Red Hood another glance.

"How'd you know I would be here in the first place?"

"Well, I mean all of Gotham is on fire, so I figured they'd call you up."

"Oh yeah," Damian interrogated. "What was your last communication with the team?" The Red Hood looked a little sheepish.

"I- It was Batwoman. We got into a fight, and then Bane locked me in one of these crates about a minute later. I've been in here the whole time." Dick took the next question.

"If you've been in here the whole time, how'd you know the city was on fire?"

"What?"

"You're fight with Batwoman was three hours ago, and the fires didn't start until an hour afterwards. If what you're telling us is true, then there isn't anyway you could have known about the fires." Now Red was starting to get frustrated.

"Look, we don't have time for this, we need to get back and-"

"Answer one question then," Damian asked, his face cruel. "What's my name."

He hesitated. Damian whipped the grapple gun off of his own belt and fired it towards on of the boat's interior walls. It clicked around a metal pipe, and launched Robin

Straight towards the Red Hood, sword in hand.

The blade moved through the Red Hood's body without any resistance, and as Damian released the pull function of his gun, he realized why. This was not Jason Todd.

Where the sword had gashed was a rolling and shifting gash of wet clay. The Red Hood's form mutated, bulging in every dimension into a bulbous and waxy monster.

"Clayface," Damian said under his breath. "Fighting for Bane, I see."

"No," his voice had also transformed, deep and echoing, as if several voice chambers were making the same words, each with its own slight variation. "You fools-" His hands grew dense spikes around a cluster of mass, as his arms each stretched long and thin. He spun his body, creating a terrifying ad-hoc blender.

Damian tucked and rolled just beneath it, his mind now calculating the next move. Basil Karlo, aka Clayface was capable of the molecular reconstruction of his own body with no limits, save one. He could not construct additional volume, only mass. He could keep his form tight and dense, or if he spread himself out too thin he could become weaker. That, or his body's adverse reaction to extreme temperatures.

In less than a tick of a second, Damian had taken in his surroundings and had formulated an attack strategy. Seeing Grayson's eyes meet with his own, both understood they had arrived at the same conclusion, based on their surroundings. They dodged another spin, as Clayface continued his verbal harassment.

"-you don't even understand how high this goes." Damian threw a triad of shurikens at the pipe he'd clipped his gun to, each piercing the metal to release the rising hiss of steam.

"This little War on Gotham is just the start-" Damian took a strong hold on his grapple cord and tugged hard. The pipe gave, but only a little. Behind him, he could hear electric whirring, knowing full well what it was. Nightwing had activated his batons full measures,meant only as stun rods for powerful metahumans. They all knew they wouldn't hurt Clayface, even at their maximum setting, but Nightwing wasn't trying to win. He was just the distraction. Damian gave another tug, but Dick would have to get him closer for this maneuver to mean anything. Robin trusted Grayson could figure that out in time.

"-this is so much bigger than Bane, little birds!" P-TING! Damian had the pipe just short of snapping right off its bolts, thanks in no small part to the magnetic features on his tech, as well as classic brute strength.

"Now!" Damian yelled over Karlo. Just as he did there was a series of small pops, and hisses from behind Robin. He knew there sounds well, hand held explosives, used to stun the mutated blob into position.

Robin pulled hard on the steam pipe, and a geyser of thick steam burnt straight through the goliath, thick sloppy liquid clay gushing uncontrollably from the wound. The criminal gave a cry of agony, as the steam continued to melt him away into a puddle, Clayface's form of unconsciousness. The two would have at least a few minutes before he'd be able to reform himself.

"Move fast," Nightwing commanded needlessly. Damian placed several small electronic mines throughout the gooey mess of Clayface's remains. They were motion triggered, and once set to the maximum voltage, they would prohibit Clayface's reformation, at least until they could return to him later tonight. Any other night he would have been the main threat, but not now. They didn't have any time to take him in, and hadn't anywhere to take him if they did. For now containment was their best bet.

"That's enough of those. We might need some later, and if we close all the other hatches in the cargo hold the steam should keep him at a difficult temperature to reform." Damian agreed with Nightwing, he could already feel sweat dripping down his jawline as a side effect. This wasn't the greatest solution, but it was the most useable one for the situation at hand.

"How'd you know?" Dick asked him while they were setting the mines. "How'd you know it wasn't Jason? What gave it away for you?"

"Well, using my deductive reasoning that was instilled on me by both my father and the great-"

"I mean how did you really know."

"Oh. Batwoman's report. She mentioned kicking his helmet, but it was practically shining when he'd exited his prison. Unless he'd had some sort of gloss in their, he should have had at least a scuff mark or two."

"That report was only filed ten minutes before you showed up with me and Gordon. When did you have time to-"

"I always make time to stay informed of the current battle situation. As you have seen, no detail is too small." Grayson chuckled to himself.

"What?"

"Nothing. It's just...Well, you're definitely **his** son." Robin took that as the badge it had been intended as.

"Where to next then," Damian asked as they exited back into the stormy cold outside world. Half the city was still in smoke, and the other was in a panic. The two of them were the only ones who could cut this madness off at its head.

"Clayface wanted us at the Gotham Radio Tower-"

"-which is no doubt a trap."

"So the only logical course of action?" Naturally, Robin thought. The two answered the question simultaneously.

"Spring the trap."


	30. Chapter 29

Chapter Twenty Nine

It had all started eight years ago. Jason Todd had been between foster homes, and was rummaging through Crime Alley, looking for a dumpster to dive through. Instead he found something far more valuable, the Batmobile itself. The fourteen year old had recognized it immediately, even if it he'd only heard about it from stories the boys off the street had told him. Jason had wasted no time, and taking his tire iron got to work trying to literally steal the wheels off the Batman's infamous car. That's when his life changed forever.

Only minutes later had the Dark Knight himself arrived on the scene, a tall shadow casting itself over the scared boy. Todd hadn't shown it though, even if this was the Batman, he wasn't going to just run off.

"You know that's the Batmobile, right?" Jason had stuck his nose up at the much larger figure.

"Yeah, and you know you parked in Crime Alley right?" The two looked each other down for a moment, before the Caped Crusader gave an eerie smile.

"I'm only going to ask this once, so think carefully about your answer. Are you hungry?" The next few weeks seemed to rush past in an absolute blur. The mansion home, the training regiment, the revelation of Bruce Wayne's double life, all of it happened so fast, and Jason cherished every fleeting second. He loved playing fast and loose, and fighting crime side by side with Batman was the best thing he could have asked for.

Even still, Bruce always criticized Jason for being to brash and headstrong. On several occasions he'd gone too far in interrogations. By the time he was seventeen, Jason was starting to understand how Dick Grayson had felt when he'd left, always being overshadowed by Gotham's greatest hero. He'd never actually met Dick, but he was living in the shadow of Batman's standards for Grayson. Todd never knew why the original Robin had even left, some said it was to start a team of teenage superheroes, while others said it was because he was through playing second fiddle to an egomaniac. More and more, Jason was starting to believe the latter.

One night not long after an extensive argument between the two, this distrust hit a boiling point. The two were flying overseas for a very clandestine operation. This wasn't the usual tumble through Gotham city, no. The two were heading to the Middle East, as apparently The Joker himself had purchased a nuclear warhead. What's worse, he was planning on re-selling it to the highest bidder.

The two had touched down late at night, Batman and Robin together with nothing, but stern faces. They'd blitzed the compound mentioned in Bruce's briefing, and together had dispatched a dozen of The Joker's goons before they finally came across the clown prince himself. Jason, more nimble than his mentor, easily dove past the goons in his way and pursued their target. Batman had been right behind him, hadn't he? It'd only take him a few seconds to catch up, maybe a minute at the most. Turns out a lot can happen in a minute.

Jason didn't remember how, but he'd woken up in an empty warehouse, bound and beaten, The Joker standing over him, laughing. A crowbar was in his hand covered in blood, Jason's blood.

" **Little bird's fallen too far from the nest, hasn't he?!"** He smiled wide, and cackling to himself hit Robin hard with the crowbar. Jason's senses dulled with every hit to the head, the metal vibrating off of every strike. Even on his knees, it was getting harder and harder to stay upright. After what felt like hours of this abuse, The Joker threw the crowbar clattering to the ground. Jason's eyes closed, but reopened when he started to hear something. A small rhythmic beeping. Opening his swelling eyes, Jason Todd saw it's source. The Joker had left a bomb, and from the size of it one big enough to level the entire building and then some.

Ten seconds. Jason slipped his handcuffs under his feet to get his hands in front of him, body all the while.

Eight seconds. Limping, he tried to make his way to the door, but fell to all fours after the first step.

Six seconds. He crawled to the exit, a large sheet metal door held closed by a latched door. Blood had seeped through most of his already red suit.

Five seconds. Where was Batman? Why had Jason run off on his own?

Four seconds. He'd unlatched the door, and leaning against it, gave it a push. Nothing. He knew why. It was locked from the other side.

Three seconds. Jason slumped his side against the door, turning his back to it. He stared at the counting clock, exhausted.

Two seconds. I tried, he thought. At least I tried to make this world better.

One second. Jason had closed his eyes. "I'm sorry, Bruce."

Then there was nothing. No heat, no fire, not even a boom. Jason felt weightless, his eyes closed, and his body suddenly numb. That's how he'd died, but it hadn't been the end.

"Get a load of this poser?" One of Bane's goons said looking down on him. "Some tough guy tries breaking into our stash and thinks he can get away with it." Like that Jason's memory had ended and he was back in the moment, body beaten just like it had been, but his spirit was prepared for what was next. After all, he'd seen it before.

"I wouldn't say that too close," another man had entered the dark room, lit only by a dangling overhead that wobbled with every hit the Red Hood had taken. "That 'poser' took down nearly a dozen of our men before we could wrestle him into binds we have him in now. Injured another half dozen before we got him in here with you. So go ahead, make your jokes, but know who it is you're dealing with."

"Yeah, yeah, you ruin all the fun, Bird." Jason's face felt a twitch at the name, and in that reflex realized something.

"Why'd you keep the domino on?" His words came out slurred, but comprehensible.

"The what?" Bird was suddenly right by his scrawny torturers side.

"My mask."

"We took your helmet to-"

"No, not my helmet my mask. This black one I'm wearing just over my eyes."

"What about it," Bird interrupted.

"Why bother keeping it on?"

"Because, small fry, Bane's got big plans for that pretty face of yours." Jason wasn't a fan of Bird's tone, something deeply sinister lurking beneath his words. Todd began fumbling with his wrists held behind his back. He traced his fingers, feeling for the metal of handcuffs, which he'd since learned how to break out of. Unfortunately, he'd been zip tied.

No pick anyway, he thought to himself, the two whispering the next stages of their plan now out of earshot only feet away. There was another way, but in his current condition was it worth it? It'd be painful, but whatever they had planned for him wasn't something he wanted to discover the hard way. Like always, Jason threw caution to the wind and pressed down on his left thumb. Hard.

With a soft pop, and a disgruntled groan of pain, Jason's left arm slid out of the zip tie, leaving it in his open hand. He'd broken his thumb to get free, but Jason could feel a second wind coming along. The two couldn't even see him out of their peripherals they'd turned so far away from him.

Like a phantom, he rose in the swaying light, and with only a single large step, disappeared back into the shadows. It was a complete darkness, a tool he knew very well how to use. No, he had only to wait.

"What the- Where'd he go?" Bird was the first to notice.

"I thought-"

"You were supposed to be watching him!"

"Well how was I supposed to know he'd just-"

"Where could he have even gone, the doors been closed this whole time!"

"Must mean he's still in here with us. Ha, you hear that dumbass you're still in here with us!" Jason threw his voice and laughed. It was a basic theatrical technique Bruce had taught him in his early days as the boy wonder. This small metal room may as well have been a stage on Broadway, his voice echoing from all side.

"Ha ha ha, oh no. You see you messed up pretty big bringing me here." The two pulled out their respective handguns, taking each other's flanks and stepping into the light.

"You see I'm not in here with you-," he rolled the still tighten zip tie at their feet before moving his position in the just large enough room. His torturer, on edge, fired his gun, the blast ringing in everyone's ears.

"Watch it!" Bird cried out, but the distraction gave the Red Hood his opportunity.

"Oh no. You're in here with **me**!"

Jason lunged forward with a precision maneuver, somersaulting low and sweeping the legs of both men out from under them. Guns clattered to the floor, as Jason jumped on top of his torturer first, beating down on his face in a mad rage.

Bird had only just shaken himself to attention by the time Jason had his man in a bloody mess. Alive, but only so long as he permitted it.

The two remaining men stood in unison, each with only their hands at their disposal under the waving light. They readied themselves as their vision came and went with the motion of the fluorescent bulb. Back and forth it went. Back and forth. Back and-

Todd was in the shadows again, with Bird surprised at his second disappearance. Bane's second in command had been looking him right in the face and even still had lost sight of him. He must've thought he was fighting a ghost. In a way he sort of was, Jason supposed.

Bird knew when he was beat and scrambled to make it to the bulkhead door. It was only then that Jason had even seen the door. It was a steel, but with padding and cushioning. No, it wasn't cushion, it was insulation. This room was supposed to be sound proof. The back of his mind began racing through the possibilities, as his body began executing his combat tasks. Jason, in this moment gave in to the muscle memory that came with training for years with Batman. No mercy, no remorse. Only vengeance.

Bird was slammed into the door before he could even open it, Jason could hear the lieutenant's teeth chipping. He held Bird's wrist behind his back, fingers placed at just the right angle to start doing damage.

"Looks like you're my prisoner now." Jason gave a small effort and broke two of Bird's fingers. For such a large man, he gave out a pretty sad cry.

"Oh hush now. No one can hear you. This room's sound proofed isn't it." The big man nodded. "Good. Now you're going to answer my questions."

"I'll never-" Another finger, another yelp.

"First things first, where am I?"

"When the boss-" Jason went ahead and bent Bird's wrist even harder, applying weight to his elbow. The goal was to have it get as painfully close to hyper extending as possible. Hell, he might even break it, the end result really didn't matter to Todd.

"Gahh! Okay, okay we're at Central Gotham Broadcast!"

"Why?!"

"I don't know! You were never part of Bane's plan! I swear! The boys and I grabbed you on the boat and Bane told us to take you here! Said he was changing his plan!"

"Where is he now? Answer me!" Bird hesitated, which cost him. A loud crack later, Bird was in tears.

"Stop! STOP! Bane's somewhere near the Gotham Radio Tower. Said he was trying to trap more of the Bat's crew, that's all I know I swear!" Jason threw him to the floor, and shook his head in contempt. Bird cowered as the ghost started stomping closer to him.

"Oh no, we're just getting started!"

"No, please! PLEASE!" The next few minutes were filled with nothing, but pain and unanswered screams. He got a few more answers, but more than anything he was making this monster suffer. After all his years in Gotham, Jason had learned one thing: Crime can't be stopped, only controlled. If criminals aren't afraid, you put them in the dirt until they start to learn. From the sounds he was making, Bird had learned his lesson.

Slowly opening the insulated door, the soft sounds of ache bled out into the hallway. Guards turned to see the source was not Todd, but in fact their leader himself.

Jason emerged from the room, two newly acquired handguns now in his possession. He stared back at the gaping clump of gun toting gangsters, all dazed at the sounds coming from the room behind Todd.

"So," The Red Hood boomed, raising his weapons. "Who's next?"


	31. Chapter 30

Chapter Thirty

"Status?" He stood with his arms crossed behind his back, watching as Gotham burned. The rain gave the city the gothic atmosphere she deserved, a cruel and unyielding misery.

"Bane reports success on nearly all fronts, my lord. Better than success actually. It seems that Gotham called in aid from out of town. Two speedsters have been spotted within our city, one at each of the prison break sites."

"And the Avatar of The Green?"

"Unaccounted for, sir. It looks like she eluded us during our attack on Arkham. No word from our men sent to capture her."

"It hardly matters. She would not go to them. It is simply a race now, and one that these so called heroes aren't even aware they are participating in. And what of the rest?"

"Cities across the nation have been subjects to attacks. Metallo and Solomon Grundy have apprehended Lex Luthor in Metropolis and Victor Zsasz finished his objective before being arrested."

"Good. Very good."

"Sir, I-" His voice was timid, not shy, but not wanting to displease either.

"Speak plainly."

"There was a small hiccup. The Red Hood."

"Yes?"

"Reports say that he escaped his imprisonment. He's tearing a path straight to Bane."

"That's hardly consequential."

"You're not afraid he might-" He raised a hand, silencing his subject.

"No, I do not fear the likelihood of that circumstance. In fact, it works to our advantage. Anything else?"

"It would appear the situation with The Question is as you feared. He is now in the possession of ."

"That is...Unfortunate. He could have been a valuable asset. Speaking of which, tell me, what of the girl? Is she here in Gotham?"

"No, the one calling herself Raven was last spotted at Coast City, but reports mention that it is possible she may be on her way."

"Possibilities do not concern me, certainties do. Find out where she is, and where she intends to go. We can not have our intentions revealed so soon."

"Of course. My lord." At that, his bootlicker went to accomplish the task at hand, leaving the master to gaze at the flames and downpour. Like a drop of rain, a solution found its way into his mind.

"Stop." His loyal minion did so without hesitation. "Send our professional after her. Redirect him from his task." Not question his master out of undying admiration, the lesser of the two bowed and departed.

He will not want to leave, the lord thought, but he will be rewarded. The dying messages of the League are of little concern to us now. Let the Titans keep it as a memento of the days long past. The age of self proclaimed "super-heroes" is ending.

There was a heavy static that pulsed through the city, as the urban loudspeakers began to hum to life. So it begins. These speakers were intended for emergency directions for the citizens of Gotham, but if all had gone correctly the Gotham Radio Tower had been overtaken for a very special message.

"Citizens of Gotham," the booming voice of an ally began, his tone triumphant and dictatorial. "My name is Bane. On this night I have burned your city. On this night I have killed your mayor. And on this night I shall destroy your heroes." Gotham's champions were doubt trying to silence Bane's broadcast by now, but they'd find that to be a futile effort. The bought efforts of both Edward Nigma and the lesser criminal Gizmo had made sure to nullify all attempts at a broadcast silence. That was why they'd chosen radio, less variables, less pieces on the board. Everyone these days always expects a Twitter post or a livestream, but what happens when you're under assault by older tech that no one knows how to use anymore. Suddenly it becomes a lot harder to fight back.

"You're leaders are blind to think they can keep you safe. In one night I have brought this city to its knees! No longer should the citizens of Gotham cower behind false idols like the absent Batman or his children. Tonight, Gotham, I give you a choice. You have seen how little these costumed children care for your safety, so I offer you a chance. Deny them their glory. Deny them their fame. Deny them their legal immunities. Why do you allow costumed freaks to break the law in order to stop crusaders such as myself. Think Gotham, does the Batman not break the law every night? And yet is he not also admired, and partially deputized by the Commissioner himself?" For all his muscle and gusto, Bane truly was a mastermind.

"I beseech you Gotham, when you see that light above you, is it a light of hope, or one of fear. From where I stand The Batman assaults the criminally insane in order to scare the public into compliance. In fact, that is what his children do even tonight."

The audio cut abruptly, a man was crying out for help, desperate and isolated.

"I'll stop when I finally get some answers! Now talk!" Another scream of pain, and an audio cut back to Bane.

"That was Gotham's own Red Hood, torturing one of my men. Are vigilantes above the law? Are they allowed to brutalize and kill when the police cannot? What makes them above the law? I would ask your police for, if they were not too busy-" Silence.

Gotham's protectors must have shut off the broadcast somehow, but it didn't matter. His message was heard, even now the chaos in the streets was mutating into riots. Everyday citizens were now out for blood, and those who were indecisive were being swept up in this frenzy. The sickening underbelly of Gotham had awoken, and with it all of the scum and crusted aggression capable of toppling a nation.

Yes, the days of super heroes was numbered, but that wasn't even the best part. The best was that this would be the moment, the flash point, the shot heard around the world for things to come. And better yet was Bane would take the full brunt of the coming storm.

"God have mercy on your soul, brave warrior. You have done us all a great service." With that, he turned on his heels and began his journey back home. There was much still left to prepare for.


	32. Chapter 31

Chapter Thirty One

"Titans, Go!" Donna Troy jumped headlong into the fight, Arsenal pulling back to fire from afar, while Omen began her psychic attack. The Fearsome Five were terrorizing Ivy Town, but from what Arsenal could see they weren't after anything in particular. Just causing a general panic. Their purpose didn't matter, Roy knew, what did was protecting people.

The Fearsome Five were a group of super villains from the Titans earlier days, back when they'd all been teeanagers. Each had their own niche abilities, but together they were a problem that could rival their full team if the Titans were having a bad day. Roy knew for a fact that today was a very bad day.

Psimon was their leader, a pale skinned telepath with with a translucent scalp that exposed his pulsing brain. An egomaniac if Roy had ever met one. Next was Jinx, a magic user who could fly, create energy projections, and a whole lot of other crap that Roy never enjoyed fighting. Another bag of tricks was Gizmo, a small tech whizz the team had picked up who had made a bunch of small drones that were easy enough to take out on their own, but the small fry kept sending out more. On of the most dangerous members was Shimmer, a girl with attitude and the power to change the physical properties of any element or compound she could get her hands on. She could pretty much transmute any matter she wanted to. The last of the five was Mammoth, and like his name suggested he was the big strong tank of the team, able to bend steel beams in his bare hands. He was also at least double the size of everyone else of the Five. Without Wally, Dick, or even Garth for that matter, the Titans were fighting at half strength.

"Arsenal! The drones!," Donna was taking charge, much to Roy's appreciation.

"On it boss." Metal bots hovered in towards them, as Roy tucked his body behind a building side, firing off a few trick arrows in the process. A handful of the death machines whined and fell to the asphalt in a shower of sparks, as Donna shouted back from the front.

"Omen, stop Psimon from-"

 _From what, little girl!_ It was **his** voice in their heads, all of them. A jolt of pain shot through Roy's body, as he saw the rest of his teammates fall to their knees with him. _Oh, poor Titans. Short staffed and tired from the night's errands. So sorry if we distracted you from those bigger fish you wanted to fry. I guess you're just going to have to play with us a little longer._

Roy opened his eyes just in time to see Shimmer melt the ground beneath Donna's feet into sand, only to harden it once it had submerged her waist.

"Donna!"

 _Oh, you're so attached to this one. I like that!_ Arsenal watched as Psimon gave Mammoth a nod. Death bots whirred to surround Omen and Roy as Mammoth approached Donna, cracking his knuckles. _Don't worry, she's an Amazon. I'm sure she'll survive the first few hits._ Roy struggled through the mental pain, trying with all his might just to stand, but as he dared to try Gizmo waddled up to him and kicked Roy onto his back, cackling.

"Not so cool, are you tough guy," he cackled. His cheek on the ground, he grit his teeth, watching as Jinx was making her way to Omen, a ball of fire in his fist.

 _Don't worry, we'll make it quick for the rest of you. You've embarrassed us for years, but we're better than you. Always have been. And because we're better, we won't drag this on any longer than-_

Roy heard a warbling noise, and a rush of heat shoot from above him. The gripping pain Psimon had over Roy vanished, and in the blink of an eye Harper launched a kick straight into Gizmo's tiny body, his body bouncing once off the ground. Before the death bots had any time to react, Arsenal was in a tuck and roll over to Gizmo's unconscious body. He ripped the control module off of his wrist and smashed it on the ground. Fortunately, Roy was right in assuming that would turn them all off, the metal parts crashing against the ground.

Looking up to see his saviors, he found an unexpected sight. It was the new Teen Titans: Raven, Beast Boy and Starfire. Raven was holding open some sort of dark portal for the other two to walk out of, and Starfire had a hand up, which was glowing green. Roy became aware of his surroundings, putting two and two together. Raven had jumped in the midst of the fight with her team, and Starfire had immediately blasted Psimon to the pavement.

Donna, with her strength returned, ripped her own body out of the concrete she sunken into, uppercutting Mammoth right in the jaw. He stammered back a few feet, but Starfire flew through the air and kept him rolling with another solid hit to his cheek. Mammoth kept backing up, as Donna continued the string with another strike to his opposite cheek. Dizzy from the combination of attacks, Roy doubted Mammoth even saw as the two warriors simultaneously uppercut the big guy together. He body was lifted off the ground a few feet, only to land with a tremendous thud.

Beast Boy leapt into the air transforming into a green toned gorilla aiming for Shimmer. Arsenal pulled out a flare-arrow and did the same. Shimmer twisted and her jagged nails in the air, as the wind around Beast Boy turned into a block of ice, trapping his large body.

Arsenal let loose his arrow, already notching another one. The flair never made contact, as during its flight, Jinx slid between Roy and Shimmer, and with a wave transformed the flair-arrow into a flying bouquet of flowers.

"I hate magic," Roy said under his breath. He let loose his second arrow, but just before he did, Shimmer had taken notice and transmuted the arrow's shaft into puddy, melting all over Roy's hands.

He somersaulted back into the alley as Jinx began blasting arcane bolts at Roy, cursing him all the while. Roy was running out of space to move, and before he even had the chance to pray for a miracle, one found him. Raven walked in the path of Jinx's attacks, blocking them all with an even darker magic.

It was then that Roy had noticed the large block of ice was no longer occupied by a gorilla, in fact it wasn't filled with anything, but an ape sized molding. Looking past Raven and Jinx, he saw that Shimmer was tied up by an emerald colored boa constrictor.

"Guess she must have trouble with living matter, then." Roy pulled out another trick arrow and took aim. "Get ready for a classic, B-B!" The snake gave him a nod, as Shimmer continued to struggle. With a click, the tip of the arrow popped into the shape of a red boxing glove, and with a big draw, Roy lifted his bow high above the plane of his target. He let it loose, and the boxing glove sailed over both Raven and Jinx, who were still locked in their own fight. The weighted glove landed directly on top of Shimmer's head, knocking her right into a cozy nap.

That just left Jinx, but just as Roy turned his attention that way, he saw a line of gold sail around her. The lasso of Persuasion. With a great tug, Donna yanked Jinx off her feet, her face landing on the side of the street. Raven sent a last bolt of wispy magic her way, and like that she was snoring with her friends.

"Well, that went well," Beast Boy announced, hands on his hips.

"Not even close," Donna responded, wrapping her lasso in circles around her tricep and hand. "This is the fourth group of villains we've hit just tonight. That's just on the East coast, and not even touching Gotham or Metropolis."

"We've had...Similar luck," Starfire continued. Roy saw that Raven looked unsteady, her knees wobbling just a little.

"I didn't know you could teleport," he told her. She swept her hair back with a hand, wiping sweat from her brow.

"It takes a lot out of me. We've been popping all over the country. Central City, Star City, Keystone, and now here." At that moment both teams' communicators pinged an alert. In unison, they all flipped out the locators, a display of coordinates reading out where the most recent crisis was. Trouble, but all the way in Fawcett City. Roy let out a breath, sore and knowing his quiver was running close to empty. Feeling behind him, he realized it was even worse than he'd thought. Only three arrows left, one of which being a trick cryo-arrow.

"Omen?" Donna was still in charge, even with the younger arrivals. It wasn't a bossy command, but just an air of conviction she exuded. No one questioned it, and no one felt they needed to. Being an Amazon gave certain people that privilege.

"I'm close enough to sense the area psychically. They feel like the Royal Flush Gang."

"Feel?" Beast Boy rightfully asked.

"She can sense familiar minds, Gar." Arsenal explained. "We've run into them before. What are they up to Lily?"

"I sense...Terror, anger...They're just committing random acts of violence. No, not random. They have a purpose,but it's hidden from me. I can't explain why."

"Maybe it's the distance," Donna offered.

"Or the stress." added Beast Boy. "We're all pretty beat tonight."

"Our fight isn't done," Donna's stern tone cut Beast Boy's wit in half. Raven's eyes flickered up and, just as she started falling, Roy was sliding to catch her.

"Looks like hers is. She's done a lot Donna. You and the others go ahead, I'll take her back to the Tower."

"Arsenal, you're sure?" He stood, wrapping her limp arms around his neck.

"She's exhausted, do you-"

"Not her, you. You're really going to sit this one out?" A strain of confusion was over the foreign warrior's face. He shot her a smile in a vain attempt to cheer her up.

"Yeah, it's all good. I need to reload anyway. Hopefully this'll be the last fight of the night, but if not I'll meet you all at the next one." He put a hand on Donna's shoulder.

"It's not forever. Just promise me you'll get through tonight, okay?" She gave him a smile, and nodded.

"Promise me the same." He jerked a cocky shrug, adjusting Raven only slightly.

"Oh please, I'll be fine .Gonna nurse a few bruised ribs, drink some water, y'know. The usual."

"Alright, Roy." He brought Raven to his motorcycle around the bend of the corner. He added an extension to his utility belt, wrapping it around both Raven and himself, setting her up behind him so that she had her arms around his waist. As he started back towards the Tower, he clicked his ear piece.

"And Donna- If things start getting really hairy, send me a call."

"You got it, cupid." Roy could hear the smile in her voice. For as menacing as she could be, god she was so adorable.

"Arsenal out." He clicked off, turning his crimson chopper around slow corners and abandoned lots. Everyone in Ivy Town must have gotten the message to stay in doors. Metahuman threats would do that to anyone.

It took only a few minutes to get on the interstate, and a few more after that to get back to Manhattan. Finding the designated pier, Arsenal hit the entrance switch on his bike, triggering the hidden tunnel at the edge of the harbor to open in the cement. Roy dove his bike down, with only a few bumps along the way. Raven didn't seem to notice, and it was all routine to him. The access tunnel was a hard carved stone, lit with low humming electric lights near the edges of the roof. It curved slightly halfway through, Roy knowing the curve was the tunnel beneath the seabed floor avoiding a long abandoned shipwreck. Turns out it was less expensive to build the tunnels ceiling around the wreck than to move the whole ship. Besides, most of the tunnel was underground anyway.

At the end, the tunnel spiked up into a steep 45 degree angle, entering into the sub basement of Titan's Tower. The access tunnel had been the only way for the non-flying Titans to even get to the tower, at least until Nightwing deciding on borrowing a jet from the Batcave. Doubtful he'd get around to it anytime soon.

Roy pulled off his helmet and shook his hair loose. He unhooked Raven from behind him, and cradled her in his arms as he walked past the Titans' miscellaneous gear and vehicles. This floor may as well have been their underground garage, spare parts and gears just thrown all over the floor space. In all fairness, it was mostly Roy's fault. It was the floor he built most of his trick arrows, and he wasn't the most organized person on the team. That was definitely Dick, who Roy was sorely missing right now. He could only imagine what Nightwing must be facing in Gotham right now.

Roy's pulsing forearms grew heavy under Raven's weight the longer he stood in the ascending elevator. The plan was to just put her in his room, and rest somewhere on the couch until Donna no doubt called him again. It seemed like just one of those nights, one where the whole world was on fire. It was funny, if Dick were here he'd have probably put some strange pieces together to find out it was all connected, but as it stood the Titan's were just a response team tonight. They didn't have time to do anything more, they were too drained.

Reaching the main floor, the elevator doors opened up to the living space of the Tower, the windows overlooking Manhattan at the far wall and that comfy couch just that much closer. Roy paced his way to his room, passing the open kitchen and Wally's room to his own. His I.D. card was in his back pocket, so by sliding his ass against the scanner he got the door to slide open with a mechanical whir. It was like something out of a space film, the door He took a look at her once he had, her face slouched as she slept quietly. Raven was barely sixteen, and even still could fight killer robots or super villains on a daily basis. With a chuckle, he remembered when he had been her age, side by side with the Green Arrow. Those were the glory days, weren't they. A time when everything seemed so much more bright and clear.

"Rest easy kid, you've earned it." He took his leave and made his way to the kitchen. The dark rooms were splashed with yellow light as he opened up the fridge, grabbing a beer from the door side shelf. As he closed the door, he caught something in his peripherals. A shadow or a flicker of movement. Someone was here with him.

Arsenal slowly pulled the tab back on his can, not wanting to show his notice. It was standing near the Tower's main console, right across from the monitor display. Doubtless he was stealing the Team's video game collection. Roy reached for his bow on his back, only to realize he'd left it downstairs in the basement.

Roy slowly made his way to the cutlery counter, the shadowy form frozen in place. It was unmistakable now, the figure had a third dimension to it. It wasn't just a trick of the light or his "wild" imagination. Arsenal took hold of a chef's knife, gripping the handle, but keeping it sheathed to lower suspicion. Then, after only a moment the figure started moving towards him. Fuck it.

"So, I'm guessing you're not here to play me at Call of Duty." Roy pulled the knife clear, the reflective blade catching the moonlight from beyond the window. Thinking quick, he shined the light in the direction of the slow moving figure. The moonbeam got caught just as the stranger stopped walking. Roy reflected the light perfectly, and succeeded in identifying the intruder. Only he wish he hadn't.

The sleek scaled armor was colored orange and black, his smooth mask split down the middle with both colors. On his back were two katana blades, and on his holster was an untold armory of munitions and utilities. Of all the thieves to sneak into Titan's Tower, why did it have to be Deathstroke the Terminator, especially on tonight of all nights.

"Hello, Speedy." His voice was cold, lingering in the air with a commanding presence.

"It's Arsenal," Roy replied, but he knew he only sounded like a child by comparison.

"Of course. Look, kid. You're not going to win this." Roy pointed the knife towards him, his clear sight on him no replaced by a silhouette that was obscured at Slade's lower half by the shadow of the couch.

"Says you."

"Exactly." Roy heard the smooth unsheathing sound of one of Deathstroke's swords, he figure's movement matching the melody. For a moment, Roy lost sight of the shadow, as if it had blinked completely out of sight. In that split-second, Arsenal panicked, his heart pounding in his chest. Deathstroke was perhaps the Titan's deadliest enemy, and someone the Team had trouble fighting all at once. He was a genius, and now Roy was fighting him was in the dark, sore, and fear was starting to take control of his actions.

Before he even had a second to catch his breath, a flash of white light streaked across his eyes. Moonlight, he knew, but even still he flinched and dropped what little guard he had. The attack came from the side, catching completely off guard.

Blood splashed against the kitchen floor, practically pouring from the slash on Roy's right arm. He yelled in pain, and as he instinctively reached to cover up the cut discovered it's severity. His arm didn't just have a gash in it, it had been removed just above the elbow.

He let out a cry of pain, moving solely on muscle memory reached for his quiver. Deathstroke kicked his knees out from beneath him sending Roy falling into a pool of his own blood.

"What a waste," Deathstroke said, returning to the main computer. He knew Roy didn't have much time left, if he continued to bleed out like this. Roy knew that too, but between sharp breaths had managed to grab the tip of his cryo-arrow with his left hand. Tears of pain fell to the floor, mixing with blood, as Roy Harper did the unthinkable. He used one of his own arrows on himself.

He jammed the tip of the cryo arrow into the carnage of his right arm, gritting his teeth in preparation of what came next. Agonizing chills shot through his veins, as if everything in what was left of his arm was now frozen solid. For all he could tell it was, but if it could stop the bleeding it was worth it. Arsenal let out one last cry of harsh pain, the frost still crawling up to his shoulder before everything went black.


	33. Chapter 32

Chapter Thirty Two

Gothamites shuffled through cramped streets, the wind and sleet beating down on their tired faces. Jim Gordon was on the scene, flanked by Detectives Montoya and Bullock as they continued the process of leading people to an emergency shelter. Kate Kane was watching from the shadows above, a rooftop ledge just hidden out of sight, assuming anyone would dare look up in the first place. Batwoman wasn't going to risk making a public appearance down below. She knew all too well the reactions from the masses would be panic and irrational anger. She knew what she was to some of them, a menace, a vigilante, or worse yet, the reason this madness was happening in the first place. Her very presence could very well create a mob.

She didn't blame them though. They were just afraid, but she didn't have the time or energy to deal with their grief right now. There was a job to do, and she'd be damned if Gotham was uprooted on her watch. Patching into GCPD, Batwoman found the frequency Gordon was coordinating emergency responders on.

"And I want an escort of Gotham SWAT with us at every checkpoint," he sternly barked. "The last thing we need is more civilian casualties. Copy?"

"Loud and clear boss," someone on the other end replied.

"Good. Now hop-to it."

"Yes sir." There was a click on the radio, as Batwoman saw Gordon go to put his handheld radio away. She patched herself in before he could.

"Commissioner." She'd expected something, even the smallest spark of panic, but no. Nothing. It was like he'd been expected anything . Too many years with Batman must have gotten rid of any jumpy reactions he had left in him after his years in the service. It was very easy for Batwoman to recognize how the Commissioner had once been a soldier the same as she had.

"What is it now?"

"Just needed a status report, nothing more." She could see his head swiveling from side to side.

"Yeah, well we're up a creek at the moment. Sure could use some more first responders to get people out of their homes. Between the arsonists and this damn weather, folks aren't sure if they're going to catch fire or get swept up by a flood. Why haven't those damn fire's gone out yet?"

"We're trying to figure that out now, but our best guess is they were ignited with a chemical solution, something that isn't diluted by just water alone. Most of the fires that spread have been put out, but the original blast zones are still going." Gordon turned, looking upwards of the flow of Gothamites.

"Yeah, I can see a few of them from here. They're like goddamn bonfires."

"My team is trying to determine the significance of the buildings hit-"

"Significance? Are you kidding, they were all tenant buildings. They were full of people, does there need to be a bigger reason than that?"

"We're trying to figure that out now."

"Well you'll have time later.

"Commissioner, I-"

"No, if you want my help like this, you have to work with me. Not against me." She knew what he meant. It was a statement of power, of who had it and who didn't. He may've worked together with Batman, but even that was looked on very negatively by city council. He'd only gotten around it because Batman had been smart and and her team were neither, at least in the way he had been. At any moment if she tried to take the reins of this op, he could just as easily blow the whistle on all of them. She knew he wouldn't want to, but he was exercising his power now.

"We're saving the city first," he continued. "We've only gotten worse, and I'm drawing the line here." Even with all her instincts wanting to chase Bane and those responsible. She knew he was right. Motivations would have to wait.

"Your orders, sir." He gave a small grunt, clearly not used to someone in a cape respecting a chain of command they were not at the top of.

"Pull back your team from whatever they're doing. I want them knocking on doors, rounding up those that got left behind. I need better first responders than what I have, and I need them now dammit." She nodded to Gordon from above, full well knowing he didn't see her.

"Consider it done." She spread her cape wide, and leapt from the rooftop. With a new found grit, she soared blatantly above the crowd, her red cape stark in the night. Gasps were heard above the wind buffing against her cowl, people beneath surprised, and at first afraid of her arrival. She didn't stop for them though,instead pulling up near the end of her descent and gliding a few stories above them towards the fires. They all turned their heads to see her depart, and Kate could feel the message sinking in.

It was a public signal she was giving. Batwoman knew there were over a dozen different routes she could have taken that would have been less overt, but she needed to show the crowds below that there were still people fighting for them. She was showing them that Gotham was not beyond saving.

Once out of sight, she landed and perched herself on the top of a looming crane machine, clicking her earpiece into her official communications channel.

"Team, report." Like clockwork, Red Robin gave her the sit-rep.

"We've got Burnley and the East Side virtually cleared out. Orphan and Azrael are working on the Financial District now, but Spoiler and I are having trouble getting all of the patients out of Memorial Hospital. There are too many people that we just can't move for whatever reason."

"How many are in Operating rooms?"

"Fourteen, with several in line. Otisburg got hit hard when we weren't looking. Just when we start to handle one district, two more call in for emergency responders. I don't know if we-"

"I don't want your doubts, Tim. I want solutions. Is it possible we could have one of the Flash's transport patients in critical conditions?"

"No good," the older of the two Flashes started. For brevity's sake they'd resorted to just calling him Flash, instead of New Flash. The younger one had been abbreviated to K.F. for comms as well. "The Speed Force technically would shield them from the kinetic effects of such travel, but there's a problem. It's been in flux ever since the Justice League went missing. It's like without the real Flash to, I don't know, maintain it, the Speed Force has been eroding for some reason." This was troubling news Batwoman knew, but it was another mystery for another day.

"Alright. If we can't move them I want you to meet up with Red Robin and Spoiler. Together I want the three of you focused on stopping these fires. Figure out how to put them out and do it quickly."

"On it. Be there soon Red." There was a suction noise in Kate's headset, no doubt the effect of the wind tunnel around Flash's speed.

"There's another issue," Red Robin continued. "K.F. hasn't reported in from Arkham. I can't reach him on comms either." It was foolish to trust he could handle that job on his own with such little experience. It'd been a fool's hope it wouldn't have led to complications, but she had to take the risk, even if no one else on the team would have.

"Orphan, Azrael do you copy?"

"Here," Azrael responded. "We're both suffering from slight injuries, to put it mildly, but if you need us we're here." When it came to injuries, they were all feeling the fatigue of the evening. Spoiler and Orphan had fallen three stories and had survived a knife fight with Victor Zsasz, Red Robin had been given a small concussion, Azrael had been jumped by half a dozen of Bane's men, and Kate had been shot in the leg by the Red Hood. No one was exactly feeling confident, but it was the price they all paid.

"Good. I need you at Arkham. Get K.F. back in action ASAP."

"By your command." He clicked off, leaving only Red Robin and herself on the line.

"Any word on Robin and Nightwing?"

"Haven't heard a word since we cut Bane's radio message." Kate could hear Tim furiously typing away at his virtual wrist monitor from over the comm. "Looks like some sort of local jamming device. Explains why we aren't being affected. From what I can guess, they're close to a main hotspot for Bane and his forces, hell maybe if we're lucky they're at Bane's front door now."

"I wouldn't bet on our luck tonight. This is all so organized, it's like Bane knows exactly when to hit us and where."

"From what I heard, he and Bats once just sat down for a game of chess instead of a fist fight." Kate raised an eyebrow.

"Who one?"

"Bruce never told me. Instead said it was better that I not know and never assume I ever had the upper hand. I got the message, but it makes you wonder if we're just wasting our time."

"What did I say about talking like that?"

"I-"

"No, there's no room for negativity, Tim. It starts in your head, and it works through your whole body. If you quit on yourself, or say it's not going to work then it never will. I don't care how small a comment it is, I need you above all the others to know that we **can** win this. We just have to make it through tonight and we've won, okay?" There was a pause over the line. Kate didn't know where all that had come from, she'd spent the last day doing nothing, but doubt herself. Maybe this was her way of getting her head back in the game.

"I understand," and from the grit in his voice, Kate knew he meant it. "What's next?"

"You're going with Spoiler and Flash. Get everyone you can to safety, but any means necessary. If you see Bane's militia, do not engage unless absolutely necessary. I don't want any of you getting lured off. Protect and escort, nothing fancy."

"And you?" It was a simple question, with a much more complicated answer.

"If Bane's goal is to get us out of the city, then there's somewhere I need to go first."

"Want to fill me in?" She had to stop playing lone wolf, she knew that. They were going to follow **her** example now.

"The Wayne Tech building. If I'm wrong it's nothing, but if I'm right then Bane might be after some of Bruce's old R&D projects."

"Anything in particular he'd be after?"

"I don't know, but considering the foes Batman went up against, his equipment would need to match. I don't want to take any chances here." She really hoped against hope she was wrong. Just the thought of Bane using weapons on par with the Justice League was something that Batwoman did not want to think about.

"The building is in the heart of the city, I'll report in as soon as I recon the place." She was about to click off, but something stopped her. It was an unspoken beat she felt in her head, a voice yelling at her to say one last good bye.

"-And Tim," she could feel he was just a fraction of a second away from clicking off too. "You...Bruce would be proud of you. I know I am."

"Thanks? What made you say that?"

"Just a feeling. Alright, now get to work."

"On it, boss." He clicked out, and Kate took a breath. She let her eyes close for just a second, and lifted her head. Rain ran down her face in heavy waves. She let her body breath for a moment, just breath. This was it, she told herself. This was what he'd been training them for. In half a beat she was in grappling through the air again, a red and black clad silhouette in the night. Next stop, Wayne Industries Tower.


	34. Chapter 33

Chapter Thirty Three

They were so close, Damian could feel it. The League of Assassins had raised him to hunt his enemies before he could even walk. His grandfather had imprinted him with the most violent instincts up until he was ten years old. That was when he'd met his father for the first time, and the two had been a team ever since. Now, in his father's absence it was Damian's responsibility to bring criminals to justice, Bane especially.

He and Grayson were sprinting over rooftops side by side, Gotham's Emergency Broadcast station was already in sight. Stopping just short of leaping to the building, Nightwing held an arm out across Robin's chest. The two were breathing a little heavier than they should have been.

"We're not thinking," Grayson stated. "We need to slow down. Plan this out." As much as Damian wanted Bane to face justice, he knew Nightwing was right. It was childish to think he could defeat a man who'd beat his father, without any tactical approach.

"How much do you know about Bane?"

"Only the basics," Damian conceded. "Born on the prison island of Santa Prisca. Rose to become the patriarch of the island, and inspires the loyalty of countless men within his militia. An expert tactician, as well as nearly unstoppable when he uses the Venom adrenal."

Nightwing crouched on the building corner, his black hair soaked against the side of his face, just as Damian's was. He wasn't going to admit it, but Damian was very cold outside. He had a job to do, of course, so it wasn't even worth mentioning. Grayson pulled out a set of military binoculars, surveying the scene as he spoke.

"You've never actually fought him, have you?"

"No. Father forbid it." Damian crossed his arms at the memory. His father had chosen different company that night, leaving his son at home with Alfred.

"That was a good call."

"Are you saying I can't handle myself?"

"No, but Bane **can** handle you." Damian scoffed. "You think I'm joking?" Nightwing pulled his left sleeve up to his shoulder. His pale arm was littered with dozens of tiny scars, but he pointed to one long white slit that went down from his clavicle to his bicep.

"He gave me this when first we met, back when I was Robin. The second time he gave me a hairline fracture across my jaw from a single amped up punch. Venom is no joke Damian. Bane's addicted to the stuff, but he knows how to use it sparingly."

"He's not mindless when he's injecting himself, is he?"

"Far from it. If given a small enough dose, Bane gets all of Venom's bonuses, without any side effects. He's perfected the serum, but there's a catch. If he gets too flustered or aggravated, he'll punch up the dose. He'll lose himself to Venom, but become stronger and more durable than ever." Damian stroked his chin.

"So it's the difference between and smart panther or a raging bull."

"Sure, if that helps."

"So we just need to get him off balance then. Get him raging." Damian nearly leapt into action, but Nightwing's gaze stopped him.

"No, we need to stop the fight before it even starts. A fist fight would be the worst thing for us to do. What we need is stealth and discipline."

The bottom story windows of the radio station erupted open, as a man in a leather jacket was thrown into the street. The sudden shatter of glass would have startled Damian if he had been any other thirteen year old.

Standing just within the threshold of the building, arms waving with machismo, was a familiar figure in a brown jacket adorning an immediately recognizable helmet.

"What the hell is he Todd doing here?" For a third time Damian went to grapple from the top of the building, but this time Nightwing allowed it, the two reaching the street side by side. It looked like the Red Hood was ready for a fight, whipping his twin handguns to be level with the both of them.

"Put em away, Todd," Damian commanded.

"Oh please, a middle schooler in a unitard is going to scare me? Sorry kid, time for the big boys to have a grown up chat."

Damian let out a primal grunt, lashing his sword from its scabbard as he barreled towards Jason. Funny enough, it looked as if Jason had never intended to shoot him, because in well over the amount of time Robin knew it would have taken to shoot him, Damian had closed the distance. The Red Hood had Robin's sword placed just at his throat, Red Hood held up his hands, grip still on his pistols.

"Wow, looks like a temper runs in the family."

"Jason, enough," Nightwing commanded over Robin's shoulder.

"Say the word, Grayson, and I'll seperate his head from his shoulders."

"My head? Oh no, you wouldn't want to do that." Damian tightened his grip, edging his blade even closer.

"Because I know where Bane is." In a brief moment of shock, Jason Todd smacked the sword away from his neck. Damian's response was instinctual and aggressive, using the momentum of Jason's push to swing his blade in a quick circle over his own head. In the blink of an eye, the sword point was on the other side of Jason's throat. Damian thought he'd won this game only to realize the truth. One of the gun barrels was now pressed firmly under Robin's chin.

"Go ahead, tough guy."

"You first, criminal," Damian retorted.

"Both of you, enough!" Grayson's patience had ended. "We all want the same thing here. We have to work together if this is going to work."

"We can't trust him, The Red Hood is a stain on everything my father stood for."

"This coming from Bruce's most famous accident." Damian roared as he inched the blade just into the skin of Todd's throat, a drop of blood slipping from the cut. He wanted more than anything to break his father's rule and Jason Todd where he stood.

"I said **enough!** " As he spoke Nightwing had launched himself, diving up and above them and landing between the two. He held the blade of Damian's sword at bay with one hand, his other palm around the barrel of Jason's gun.

"You two can try and kill each other later, but right now we need to stay focused. Bane is out there right now, and none of us can do this alone." He turned his head to look at Jason. "You said you knew where he was? Take us there."

"No way, you'd just stop me from ending this." Damian could see The Red Hood place his finger over the trigger, a silent warning that he would shoot Grayson where he stood.

"We want the same thing here," Nightwing continued.

"No. We don't. You and your kind try to stop crime, but you **can't**." Jason's tone was harsh, while Damian's interjection continued his spiteful sentiment.

"And you can?"

"No, I control it."

"Jason that isn't-"

"No, **Nightwing** , it isn't how **you** do things, it's how **I** do it. Haven't you noticed how Bludhaven's crime rates have dropped over the last month? It wasn't just luck, it was me. I had some ring leaders picked off while I took command. Drugs, weapons, everything. I make sure it stays in line with everything **he** taught us." There was a brief silence, less than a second long, where Damian reconsidered impaling Jason.

"We stand for something bigger than injustice and crime." Nightwing took a step closer to Todd, his hands at his sides, but in fists. Red Hood followed suit, guns now holstered.

"Have you forgotten what **we** are? Vigilantes aren't deputized in Gotham." The two were standing with hardly a foot of space between them, mask to mask. "Criminals don't deserve to rot in a cell, or maybe you just don't care anymore. Maybe you just don't care about what happened all those years ago. Maybe you think scum like Tony Zucco deserve a second chance!"

That name, Damian recognized it. Tony Zucco had been a gang boss, one who over a decade ago had been responsible for a string of grassroot business shakedowns. Father had always taught him to recall information as if his life depended on it, which had become invaluable to his crime fighting training. If Damian were to make an educated guess, Zucco probably had some impact on Grayson's history. He must've been important, because Dick looked physically shaken. It wasn't fear though, it was rage, and one he was trying to suppress. Through his teeth, Grayson made his next statement clear.

"Help us or leave Gotham for good. Your choice." There was another brief moment of severe tension. Damian was bracing himself for an incredible fight, one he wasn't entirely certain he and Nightwing were capable of winning without using lethal force. Everyone seemed to hold their breath, the beats of tension hitting with every passing raindrop.

Jason started to chuckle, thunder erupting in the distance. He turned his back to Dick, but Damian stayed aware as the two took a breath of relief. If this was a trick, he couldn't be caught off guard, even for a second.

"Well, Nightwing, I don't seem to have much of choice," Jason said with a smile in his voice. "Guess we'll just have to pool resources. Bane's goons told me he was overseeing his plan from aboard a ship at the docks. I still don't have a name-"

"The King Brown. That's the ship name." Red Hood cocked his head slightly to one side.

"You're sure." Nightwing pulled out his grapple gun, Damian following suit as a sign or certainty.

"I have to be, but he's not there. We already checked. It was a trap."

"Clayface was waiting disguised as you, actually." Damian added.

"Funny. Well if that's not it, then where does that leave us?" It was then that something stirred at the edge of Damian's vision. Jason's former victim was dragging himself across a floor of broken glass.

With a turn of his sword, the blade was now curved down behind the man's neck, his body stopping dead as it felt the cold metal against his skin.

"Talk! We don't have all night, and there are still more ways to hurt you!" At the corner of his vision, he saw Nightwing move to intervene, but Jason held out an arm, stopping him. They were watching him.

"I don't know!I don't know!"

"Wrong answer!" Damian gave him a small thin slice on the back of his spine, no more than a paper cut. He wanted to frighten, not kill."

"I swear I don't-!" Another cut, this one slightly deeper.

"I don't have all night!"

"Okay, okay!" The man now flipped over, back against the asphalt. Damian repositioned himself, blade now pointed at the man's large stomach. "Bane's heading to the Wayne Tower at the center of the city! He wanted to watch his plan from Gotham's tallest building, see it all in motion, I swear that's all I-" Robin slammed his hilt against the goons forehead, knocking him out cold. He sheathed his blade, taking out his grapple gun, the other two still in stunned silence.

"Well?"

"Robin, you shouldn't-"

"Dick, you can lecture the kid on proper interrogation procedure later, but right now we got a bad guy to deal with." The Red Hood pulled out his own grapple gun. "Let's go kick some ass." For once, Damian and Jason were in agreement.


	35. Chapter 34

**Author's Note:** This one goes out to The One in the North for getting me back into writing what I love and fighting the good fight. I hope you enjoy.

Chapter Thirty Four

Kate's exhaustion was starting to catch up to her. Between the grueling travel, the bitter drafts of cold rain, and the aching pain of her leg wound, her body had just about reached its limit. Just push through it, she told herself. Just one more block, and another after that. You're almost there. Just get to the tower, follow your instincts. Finish the mission.

With the fires from Otisburg seen even from this distance in the Financial District, Kate's patience was completely depleted. There was no more time to scout ahead, no more space to give her entrance a "safe" approach. She chose a window and took aim, her grapple gun finding its grip in a corner near enough to her chosen entrance. Instead of zipping through the air immediately, Kate leapt from the building, using the grapple wire as if it were a long swing between buildings, her downward momentum, building and flinging her upwards in an arc. Just at the peak of this arc, she recalled the grapple with a quick flick of the switch. For just a moment, she was suspended in air, body flying upwards towards the Wayne Industries Tower. She lined up her legs in front of her, and held her heels up, cape arced behind soles struck true, as the momentum of her swing shattered her through the window, body action rolling across the floor as glass fell in all around her. All according to plan.

Standing, she realized something not quite right. Gotham was the city that had a habit of staying up well into the night, so why was it that on tonight of all nights, Wayne Tower was eerily silent. The overheads were all off, but the signs from the streets below cast enough light upwards for Batwoman to see. Her first few steps crunched glass beneath her boots, the flickering lights below casting her large shadow. It shivered and shifted across the wall in front of her, creeping as she did to the next room.

This isn't right, she thought to herself. Wayne Industries has an around the clock staff. Where is everyone? She walked past abandoned offices and cubicles, shadows still flickering all around her. Wind and rain howled from behind her, the open window delivering a shiver to her every so often. It was odd, but for just a moment Kate felt relieved. The chaos of the world was behind her, the noise replaced by the nothing more than the pitter patter of heavy rain. She knew there was still a job to do, but even a second to regain her composure was appreciated. It had been a long day to say the least, and sadly one that no one was prepared for.

Kate took a warm heavy breathe of recovery, followed abruptly by a instinctual twitch to her left. Darting her vision to a nearby office, Batwoman saw something she'd not seen in any other office she'd passed. A small electronic clock face, numbers blinking red. With every second, the number changed, beeping twice every time. The only problem was it wasn't telling time. It was counting down. 0:54

"Damnit!" Kate knew she must've tripped it as she'd passed by, but took off running all the same. Cape flapping behind her as she turned the corner, Kate could still hear the subtle beeping noises as she crashed her way through an unlocked steel door. She raced her way up two flights of stairs, her leg cursing her all the while. Two floors she climbed, hoping she was beyond the blast zone as she opened the door of her newest floor.

Chest rising and falling with every deep breath, Kate could still hear something. It was that same beeping sound, but now it was...Closer. Peeking her head around a nearby corner, Kate looked into a mirror of the office two floors below. There, atop the desk as it had been below, was another set of red numbers blinking in the dark. 0:29

"Shit!" It hadn't just been chance that she'd just so happen to find a trigger on the exact same floor she'd chosen. No, it didn't take a genius to reason that charges had been placed on **every** floor of the building. And unlike her other friends in black, Kate didn't have experience disarming explosive devices, at least not nearly as much as Tim or Dick had. Plus, even if she did disarm one, the others would no doubt topple the building. This was of course assuming they were even bombs to begin with, but Kate couldn't take the chance. She found a window at the building's side and started running. Throwing a single batarang, Kate had hoped to shatter the window entirely, but all she'd ended up doing was lodge her shuriken into the glass, a web of cracks created from the impact. Without skipping a beat at her own partial failure, Kate bull rushed through the weakened glass instead, falling back into the wind and rain.

Laying her body flat mid fall, Kate expanded her cape a began her glide to a nearby rooftop, hoping that she might be blessed with a soft landing. Just short of her chosen building, there was a flash of orange and yellow from Wayne tower. A shockwave punished her from the side, sending her flying wildly off course. Her body fell only ten feet it seemed, before Kate found herself rolling sideways across dust and brick.

Spitting out concrete dust, Batwoman nursed her side and picked herself off the floor. She stared across at what was left of Wayne tower in disbelief. Bane hadn't just damaged the tower, he'd mutilated it. The explosives had been large enough to create raging fires on all, but the bottom floors, but small enough to maintain the structure of the building itself. What now stood was a hellish husk of a building, nothing left, but structure beams and flames.

Sparks flew from the rooftop, catching Kate's attention. Someone was on the rooftop, standing just behind the now singed "W" that stood as the face of the building. As Batwoman tried to get a better look at whoever was behind the sparks, she heard a deep metallic creaking sound. With a crash, The "W" slid to one side, now lopsided. Its shift seemed to rattle the whole building. More sparks, and as Kate went to move her body shouted with pain in protest. She needed to push through it, she had to-

With yet another thunderous creak, the top end of the "W" slid to one side only to spin sideways in free fall. Batwoman stood in disbelief as the Wayne name literally fell to the dark depths below, crashing in sparks and glass in the streets below. She heard citizens below scream, crying out for help from various harms that had come there way. Kate did not move to help them, not out of malice, but out of discipline. Her every instinct wanted to help those in need, but her mind was giving her reason.

Bruce had only told Kate that Bane had discovered his secret identity a long time ago, back when they'd first encountered one another. If Bane was as after the legacy of the man as he was the legacy of the Bat, this was an obvious move. Symbolically, the Waynes an their foundations stood for every second chance this city had to give. For all of Bruce's public flaws, his organization in the eyes of the public was helping those less privileged. By eviscerating Wayne Tower, Bane wasn't just sending a message to the Bat family, he was sending a message to Gotham. There is no hope. Gotham City was dead.

"No. Not tonight." Batwoman launched her grapple gun to the very top of the burning Wayne Tower. Breathing yet another second wind through her muscles, Kate zipped through pelting rain and drafts of wind made warm by the hellish flames. There was only one man Bane would give the pleasure of dethroning the name of the Waynes to.

Batwoman flipped over the edge of the rooftop, flames licking over the edge of the building at her feet. Everything up here seemed so much warmer than below, and far less damaged. It was by design, there was no where else to go, nowhere else to run. Finally, after an entire night of searching, she found him.

His heavy form turned to face her, his white and black mask a skeletal ghost of anger. The only flaw Bane had was his arrogance, and Kate knew he'd never give the job of dismantling Wayne Tower to anyone, but himself. She also realized, just from a second of body language that this had been his plan from the very beginning. Even the very circumstances proved it. She was now trapped atop a fragile building, surrounded by a circle of flame, wounded and exhausted, against one of Batman's greatest foe.

He turned to face her, and as he spoke his voice was slow and menacing, carrying an air of suppressed violence with every word. It was the voice of a hunting predator that had just cornered its prey.

"I came to Gotham tonight to create an idea. With your death, it will become a reality." It was time, and they both knew it. Without another word, the two charged.


	36. Chapter 35

Chapter Thirty Five

Wayne Tower was in flames, his father's name had been cast below, and his city still remained in chaos. Damian Wayne heard thunder explode, as a streak of lightning flashed behind the column of slag that now sat as Wayne Tower. It was him, he was here. He had to be. It didn't matter anymore, the rain, the cold, the cries for help, none of it. Robin would get what he deserved. He would get vengeance for this attack on his father's memory. If it was within his power, Damian was going to destroy everything that Bane held dear. He would ruin every corner of Bane's pathetic life, given the opportunity, and it all started now.

"Everyone, stay alert," Nightwing's voice droned on.

"He's mine, Grayson." Damian aimed and fired his grapple gun at the top of what was left of Wayne Tower. Nightwing's warnings fell to the wind, only the high tension whirring of his gun pulling the metal cable filled his mind. As he sped through the air, he caught a glimpse of two shadows, silhouetted by the moon. There was a battle to be had after all, one within a ring of fire atop the skyscraper above.

Damian heard a high pitch airburst to his side, and looking back saw Jason Todd zooming up behind him. Funny enough, it was Grayson who was still hesitating in this split second. He must've known the time for action was now. Father would have thought so.

His line brought him just a few stories shy of his target, meaning he would have to rappel up the side of the smoldering building. As soon as he hooked the cord of his gun to the carabiner on his belt, Damian kicked his feet up perpendicular to Wayne Tower itself. Every motion against its superheated frame caused it to shift. Robin could even feel the wind from the altitude start to creak away at the unstable building as he began his ascension. It was nothing to him, he reminded himself as heat tore at his soles. He'd climbed mountains taller than this when he was a four year old, as was expected of the grandson to Ras al Ghul. He did not fail then, and he would not fail then.

Thunder boomed even closer, as lightning flashed ever closer to them all, but Damian only focused on his end goal. Step by burning step, each one harder than the last. The metal frame was actually losing its consistency, bending in unnatural spots and even Damians small steps were injuring it with unnecessary strain.

"People of Gotham!" Bane's voice boomed in Damian's ear. "Your city is burning."

It wasn't just his ear, Robin realized, the speech was now being broadcast all across Gotham. Every emergency broadcast system, radio transmitter, even the Bat Family's own ear pieces were broadcasting Bane's new manifesto. Damian pulled on his grapple cord even hard, lengthening his stride. ' _Must. Go. Faster.'_

"Your police have failed to keep you safe, and your heroes-" Damian saw him now, coming to the edge of the flames, but it wasn't just him. He was holding the figure from before across his arms. Just two more stories. Come on, Damian, just a bit more. "-your heroes have fallen."

At that moment, Bane lifted the second figure over his head and tossed her over the edge of the building. They fell too fast to react, but in a split second Damian recognized the attire. The black bat uniform, trimmed with red. It was Batwoman!

In a moment of agonizing indecision, Damian attempted to determine if there was enough time to glide down and catch her, or if he could even catch her. If he went down, her weight might take the both of them down if he didn't she would die, presuming she wasn't dead already.

There was another loud pop, as Robin caught a glimpse of blue moving through the night. In mid air, the shape somersaulted and caught Batwoman, crashing into a story of Wayne Tower far below. Dick's voice chimed in over Robin's earpiece.

"I got her, just keep going."

"Impressive.". Damian looked back to the rooftop, to see Bane's frame surrounded in flames. "Let's see if he can do it twice." There was a shine of metal, before all tension in Robin's cable snapped. His back gave in to weightlessness, as his feet flipped over him. There was a brief instance, as time seemed to freeze around Damian. There he was in the process of falling head over heels, staring at the mask of the devil in fire. He thought of his father. His friends. His family. Then his legs began to spin over him and the world resumed in free fall.

Wind rushed all around him as the world blurred in a spiral of night and fire. Grapple cord cut, Damian struggled to grip his glider cape to recover, but just couldn't manage to get his fingers around the needed finger holds. Without his tools, Damian used the only thing he had left. His instincts.

Robin held an arm out and hoped he'd grab onto something. The world blurred for just another moment, before abruptly stopping all at once. The was a physical crack, as Damian felt something tear in his right shoulder. His vision was still swirling, as whatever taken his hand hurled him into an abandoned story of the building. His body rolled, and off of muscle memory Robin unintentionally regained his footing. He looked back just in time to see the tails of a brown leather jacket ascend the building.

"You're welcome, kid." Mistake or not, Jason Todd had just saved Damian Wayne's life. "Just don't get used to it happening again." Even so, he was still Jason Todd, and had to be a jackass about it.

"Nightwing, my wire was cut, I'm on the fifty fifth floor. Where are you?"

"Forty nine, but Batwoman's in real bad shape and this building doesn't look like it's going to last much longer." Damian put his gloved hand against a nearby pillar, and prepared himself. Not taking too long to reflect, he threw his shoulder at the pillar with hard shove. There was a soft pop, as the thirteen year old regained control of his arm.

"Don't bother," Jason commented. "I'm two stories shy, and Bane didn't see my approach. I'm going to end him tonight." There was a shriek of static, as Robin caught a glimpse of a nearby stairway and took off. Bane wasn't going to escape.

"Both of you slow down, we already have one member down, don't try be-"

"What Grayson," Damian spat back, as he sprinted up the stairs. "Don't try to be what? Heroes? That's exactly what we are." Every step was a struggle, and even if his arm had been relocated, it was still very sore. The only reprieve these surroundings had granted was the small luxury of warmth in the storm, but even that was now becoming a concern towards the building's structural integrity.

"If you're here to fight, then fight. Get Kane out of here if you need to, but Jason and I are here to finish this. I'm not going to let you or anyone else stop me from becoming my father's legacy." Before nightwing could respond, Damian threw his comm from his ear, following the example of the Red Hood. He couldn't be distracted, not now.

Robin burst through the roof access door, and was nearly pushed back by the high altitude wind bracing against his entrance. He arrived just in time to see Jason get stomach kicked back to Robin's side of the building. He caught sight on Jason's pistols, having been knocked to the middle of the floor.

"It would appear the little bird has wings after all." Bane held his muscular arms wide, stray leather straps hanging from the heavy military pants he wore. Every step he made adjusting his stance seemed to shake the building.

Jason stood from his prowler position, side by side with Damian as they side stepped to match Bane's movement. Robin pulled the blade from its secure sheath, and stood ready. Fire raged around the arena Bane had no doubt created for this twisted game. While a worthy challenger to the future Batman, Damian knew he wasn't invincible.

"If I am to battle two of you, then perhaps I should make this more even." Before either Jason or Damian could stop him, Bane twisted a dial attached to his wrist. With it, a glowing green liquid pumped through tubes previously invisible to Damian. The serum began in Bane's spine, and then travelled through his apparatus to his calves and triceps. Veins bulged black from Bane's chest, shielded from the rain by only a single black tank top, now stretched to its limit. His legs also engorged themselves, gaining half the size they'd already been. The sheer growth had been double that for Bane's arms, as the tyrant gave out a vicious roar.

"Now then," he growled. "Which of you **children** would like to go first?"


	37. Chapter 36

Chapter Thirty Six

"Kate? Come one Kate, wake up." Dick held her body close, partially shielding her from the surrounding heat. The structural beams around the two of them were still coated in lingering flames. The whole building felt like an oven, and with every step Nightwing took, the floor beneath him was all the more ready to give way. Finally, Batwoman's body began to stir, eyes blinking open, and she pushed him away from her. Batwoman caught herself on all fours, coughing. Her mask had several tears, and parts of her face were just starting to swell shades of purple.

"Where- where are the others," she managed to spit out, attempting to regain her footing herself.

"Fighting Bane on their own, just like you were. What the hell happened Kate?" She shook her head, leaning against a small portion of the pillar that wasn't aflame.

"Thought I could end it. Thought he wanted me." She turned her head and looked straight into Dick's eyes. It was a grim look, partially of regret, but more than that it was of desperation. "He was trying to attract the Batman Copycat. He knows, Dick. He knows Bruce is gone."

Nightwing pressed hard into his communicator, but was immediately met with static yet again. There was no way for him to know how the fight was going upstairs. He needed to get Kate out of here, but he also needed to stop Bane from killing either of them. A hand fell over his shoulder as he'd lost himself in thought.

"Go."

"Kate,-"

"Just promise me you'll stop him tonight."

"I- I promise."

"Good." Dick watched as Kate walked right up to the edge, a vacant perch that once housed a pane glass window. Spreading her scarlet cape wide, she threw her body backwards of the edge. The glider looked slightly torn, but she would be able to fly, even in this weather. Batwoman's silhouette faded into out of eyesight, but Nightwing had already started his ascension by then.

Every step on these lower floors was a risk, something making the building more and more unstable. That left only one choice, he'd just have to scale the thing from the outside. Without a shadow of a doubt, Nightwing hurled his body back into the rain, spiraling mid free fall like the acrobat he was. It took him only a moment to find a perch above, and fire his grapple gun towards it. The tension of his line was steadily being worn tonight, but kicking the device into overdrive, the cord spun through the gears of his device. Instead of the mountain climber approach that his brothers had taken, Nightwing 's device was carrying him straight up to his destination. The problem with using this setting, was that the portion of cable that were traversed, were sent out the back end of the device, effectively being unusable until he took the time to fix it. Bit by bit, Nightwings grapplewire fell away beneath him, a worthy sacrifice to get him to Bane that much sooner.

Dick pulled himself up one floor short of the rooftop, tossing his now useless grapple gun to the floor. He'd have to re wrap the damn thing by hand if he ever wanted it to work again.

Nightwing had just started a dead sprint for the stairs, when the ceiling beneath him exploded down onto him. The floor beneath him began to fall away as the force from above crushed all in its path. Dick rolled his body with the momentum, and managed to land flat on his stomach at the edge of metallic pit that went down several floors. There, five stories below, flat on his back, was Damian Wayne, struggling to move beneath several chunks of plaster and heated metal.

The whole building was shaking, as Damian struggled to move out from where he was pinned. More dust and ash fell through the pit, as Nightwing saw the outer beams of the building starting to buckle. Gunshots rang out above, sharp bursts just barely louder than the crackling fires and storm outside.

"Damian!"

"I'm fine, just get Bane!"

"Not without you! Line launch up here!"

"I'll get out on my own! Finish the goddamn mission!" Another beam near Grayson creaked and moaned, shifting the building's stability along with it. More gunshots, fires growling all around him. Sweat seeped all around his mask, as he came up with a plan.

"Wedge your sword into the beams! Just get your arm free and grapple up!"

"The buildings coming down-!"

"Just aim up, I'll catch the line if it gives! I'll catch you, I promise!" There was a brief moment of silence where Nightwing's eyes fluttered closed, where he thought the fires had simply consumed him. He'd been fighting all night, perhaps a moment's rest would do him good as Damian was starting to… To…

There was nothing, but darkness. It was a silent darkness, a sort of quiet one only sees on an unperturbed snowy evening, the kind where everything seems to settle where it belongs. It's frightening at first, but after the initial fear it's actually soothing, relaxing even.

"Son." He felt his eyes lift. The shadows parted for him, just like they always did. He wasn't in a suit, or the cowl, he was just a man. Kneeling down to Nightwing's level, he looked him over.

"Dad?" There it was, that stern, but soft smile. Confused, Grayson's mind raced. "Where- where am I?"

"That depends. Where do you want to be?"

"I...I'm not done yet. Damian needs me, Jason needs me." His voice quivered, but knew he meant what he had to say. "I need to go." tears streamed down his face as he said it.

"I know," he nodded. The two men stood, the father helping his son to his feet. "Just do one thing for me, would you?"

"PULL!" Damian's voice ripped Nightwing from whatever he had seen. He was back in the very moment he'd left, if he'd even left at all for that matter. Grayson tugged on the cable already in his grasp. Damian's body hung aloof in air,the end of his line attached to his belt as the elder struggled through every hand hold of the line. Just as the boy wonder slipped over the edge next to Nightwing, a large chunk of the floor above fell away again, only adding to the destruction below.

"You need to get out of here!" Nightwing could see Damian's blood seeping through the uniform, even if the teenager refused to admit his fault. Still holding the end of Damian's line as the boy bickered with him, Dick moved to retrieve something he'd lost.

"What now!?" attaching the hook of Damian's line to his discarded launcher, Dick aimed for a nearby building outside the window. "Oh, don't even-"

PFFTING! The cord launched, and just as Nightwing swiveled out of the way, the Son of Batman was launched to safety. It only took the kid a second or two to expand his gliding cape to reach a safe landing. Two down, now just one to go.

Wayne Tower lurched yet again, metal and fires hissing into the stormy night. The stairs had become blocked by debris, so Nightwing leapt upwards through the gaping hole in the ceiling, full well knowing that if he missed he'd fall five stories. Flying Graysons didn't miss. His fingers caught on the edge of the floor above, the buildings infrastructure deteriorating all the while.

Pulling his body over the lip, Nightwing saw as Bane ducked beath one of Jason's lunges, countering with an elbow to the gut. The Red Hood was knocked off his feet, Bane giving him not an instant of rest as he swept him up by the throat.

"Like I said," Bane gloated, standing tall. " **Children**." A trio of shurikens stabbed into the side of Bane's arm, with a fourth slicing just into the tube connecting to the back of Bane's mask.

"BANE!" Nightwing was crouched low, like a wounded animal waiting to retaliate. His adversary turned, visibly amused.

"I see. It would seem it is easier to pull you from Bludhaven than it is to bait this Batman impersonator." He dropped Jason's limp body to the floor, his helmet cracked and dented in certain spots.

"Is that what this is all about?!" There was an instant of blinding light, which subsided quickly. Almost impossible to hear over the fires and metallic creaking was the whirring of helicopter blades. That mixed with the flood light now on the three of them could only mean one thing: the press. Bane shrugged, never dropping eye contact.

"They want a show, mi amigo. Let's show them one!" Bane pressed hard on a button attached to his wrist, causing neon green liquid to start coursing through the tubes attached all around his body. This same liquid started leaking down the backside of his neck, but the overall effect still maintained itself.

Nightwing pulled out his billy clubs and awaited Bane's move, though all he did was start to side step around the pit to him. Dick countered, the two of them remaining on opposing ends of this makeshift coliseum.

Bane jerked his body left, then back right as he made a mad leap towards Jason's body. Nightwing lunged to get in between the two, only just arriving in time to shoulder bash Bane off course. His heavy builds momentum sent him just to the edge of the still roaring fire ring.

"Of course, you must know I am not a fool, " he continued lathering his hands in the Venom still leaking from his spine. Nightwing's legs nearly gave out beneath him, but he pressed on nonetheless. Feeling for a pulse on Jason, Dick knew his friend was still alive.

"Focus, little bird." Bane plunged his radiant hands into the flames beside him. Pulling them back, the chemicals had held fire with it. "You wouldn't want to end up like the other three." Nightwing stood, breathing intently.

"I will give you one more chance. Surrender to the police." Bane seemed to falter.

"I know you. That s not your voice, but they are your words. That same… Conviction. If I didn't know any better I'd say you were **him**. No, his copycat perhaps, but **you** are **no Batman**." For the first time in a long time, Dick Grayson knew exactly what to do next.

"I know." Without hesitation, he hurled one of his clubs through the pit at an angle. It ricocheted off it marks and Nightwing saw as it dislodged a foundational piece of rubble. The floor beneath Bane gave way slightly , shaking just enough for the big man to need to regain his balance.

Grayson leapt with a new found strength directly at Bane, landing a downward knee against the goliath's chin. Bane took a wild swing, which was easily dodged and countered as Dick ripped out two of his shurikens from Bane's arm.

The acrobat went low, sliding under Bane's legs as he severed the tubes connecting to his thighs. Bane got a hold of him before he could stand though, throwing him off the floor towards the pit once more. Dick caught the metal, but even as he crawled up more and more pieces were giving way. Every gust of wind was causing the building to sway.

Bane was on him the second he'd gotten to his feet, swinging a much more disciplined series of punches. On the ropes, Nightwing had to work defensively, blocking and dodging what he could with little chance to make a counter attack. He took a solid jab to the side of the cheek, managed to block an attempt to cup his ears, evade another right hook, and even push back as Bane threw a knee right at his stomach. What he didn't managed to catch was the clean uppercut that shook him to his core. His guard was working on bare instinct now, ducking and parrying what he could as spat out teeth and blood.

"What a shame," Bane swung low, then pulled up fast taking Nightwing's throat up with him. He hold him there, feet dangling for the floor as the air escaped his lungs. "It seems that Batman truly has left Gotham!" Bane turned his attention up to the camera chopper above, Venom still leaking all over his body. "Is this all Gotham has to offer! Is this what the world should expect from its heroes!?"

Nightwing saw a figure move behind Bane, and he could have sworn he saw a glint of something metal.

"No." Bane swung to the side, taking notice of this new voice."This is," a demasked Jason Todd proclaimed. He put a handgun right up to Bane's temple and pulled. The last thing Nightwing felt before passing out was a spray of warm liquid across his face.


	38. Chapter 37

Chapter Thirty- Seven

At long last,the storm was over. The skies had cleared and night had turned to day. Across the world, citizens and heroes alike were pulling each other together in the aftermath of this national tragedy. Every major city had been attacked by by super powered individuals simultaneously. Without the Justice League to protect them, the people of Earth were starting to realize the harsh truth. Their saviors were gone. Their Age of Heroes was coming to and end.

Vandal Savage sat at the head of a long table, slowly opening his eyes to those around him. To his right was the calculating ruler of the League of Assassins, Ras al Ghul. His ally sat in a green robe, with a not so concealed blade at his belt. The blade itself was clearly ancient, but handcrafted, probably by the user himself. Ras carried with him many lifetimes of experiences, the great master of killers now over 900 years old. While very impressive, Vandal himself was also a man long ago forgotten by time, longer even than the Demon's Head.

To his left was a man concealed in black metal and armor, his large domed helmet staring back at him through two large red lenses. It was the world renown diver turned mercenary Black Manta, crusader of the seas and mastermind behind one of Vandal's newest plots across the globe. He was an interesting man, always keeping himself armored and prepared for battle. While not as ambitious as the man on Vandal's right, Manta knew when to be a conqueror and when to be a soldier.

Further down the table to Black Manta's left was Deathstroke the Terminator. He had only just returned back from his raid on the Manhattan Titan's Tower, with great success. It seemed the cost of keeping the world's greatest assassin on his payroll was well worth it. It was because of his efforts that they'd recovered every recording of the League's final mission. While not the most devoted of Vandal's inner circle, Deathstroke was far more honorable than either Ras or Manta. If his plans were to succeed, Vandal would need at least one man he could count on.

The final chair at the table was to the other side of Ras, but remained empty, a silent reminder of the stakes at which the remaining four were gambling with. With everyone waiting on him, Savage spoke softly.

"Shall we begin?" They all nodded, as Vandal activated the holo projector in the center of the table. The red light grid gave form to the floor plans for the League's watchtower, their orbital station that was still adrift. "Deathstroke, tell us more of your discovery aboard this installation." The terminator removed his black and orange militant mask, revealing the face of a grizzled man with stark white hair, and a patch over his left eye.

"The place was completely abandoned, just as we'd thought. They have two means of entry and exit. A teleporter room on the Control Room floor, and a set of Javelin class ships in their Hangar."

"I'm unfamiliar with these shuttles," Manta stated out loud, arms crossed.

"That's because the League didn't want anyone to know about them in the first place. They're transport ships, sure, but while I was digging through their archives for Vandal's little project, I found a set of schematics for them too." Vandal, on cue, activated the next image for the projector. The multi-angled portraits of the Javelin ships proved to be very interesting indeed. Rotating engines, a cockpit built to carry teams of six at a time, and even twin ion cannons for disabling robotic adversaries.

"Keep in mind, they used these back when the League had dozens of members in it at a time. They've clearly been forced to downsize, for one reason or another. I only saw three ships down there, and they were all gathering dust."

"So nothing noteworthy?"

"Not unless you're planning on going into deep space." Ras's eyes widened.

"You mean to say-"

"That these girls were probably used to go to different worlds, yeah that's what I mean to say. Their engines are hilariously complex, like nothing on this planet. My best guess is either Superman or those Green Lanterns helped build it, but that's just my two cents." Vandal stroked his chin, several new options suddenly presenting themselves.

"Thank you, Deathstroke. And your mission to Manhattan went just as well, I presume."

"If it hadn't, I wouldn't be here. The recordings you were after are all here." He slid a flashdrive across the glossy table. "Hope it was worth one of your inner circle." There was an edge to the Terminator's voice.

"Bane's death was...an unfortunate loss, but not without its merits. Each of you were given your missions, and his was dismantle what was left of The Batman."

"The man may be gone," Ras started. "But the legacy of The Detective lives on through his heirs. No one, not even Bane could have ended what Batman had spent his lifetime building in Gotham." Savage could not help, but rebuttal.

"As you'll recall, I sent several of best operatives to keep the world off balance. The Fearsome Five and Royal Flush Gang worked as pawns to diverge assets away from the east coast. Clayface served as yet another distraction within the city, and you yourself emptied the cells of Arkham Asylum and Blackgate. Bane had every advantage and I believed he performed admirably." Vandal saw Ras stir to match his gaze, two immortal men trying to see who was the superior. Neither budged, and it was only Black Manta's next question that broke the two from their small confrontation.

"So what then, Savage? Are we all to expect a knife in our backs if it suits you?" Vandal stood softly, not trying to override anyone at the table.

"Manta, your operation is being acted out masterfully. Atlantis is in a complete civil war between Queen Mera and Aquaman's brother Ocean Master. You've rallied several political allies to his cause and have armed Ocean Master's forces with the tech we've been receiving from Black Mask. As to your question, no. Each of the three of you were invited into this because of our similar ideologies. We can all agree, whether we like each other or not, that Humanity as a whole is growing weaker. They're devolving as a race, and it all stems from these so called superheroes. With these protectors, humanity cannot hope to face a new generation of challenges, instead relying on gods to do their work for them. We oppose this because we all believe that only humanity should be allowed to protect itself, else it will never evolve as a species. No Atlanteans, no Amazons, and no Aliens from other worlds. " Vandal began pacing around he table, hands held behind his back.

"We can all sense a great change coming, and only by working together can we make it a reality. You can trust I will not betray you for the same reason I trust you to not do the same to me. Because without all of us working as one, we fail, and humanity will fail with us." The other three seemed contemplative, but overall relaxed.

"Humanity is not as black and white as you may think, Savage." Ras stood to match Vandal's authority. "I do what I must not to preserve the entire race, but to also eliminate those who would cause it harm. Thieves, rapists, murderers- I would see them eradicated from this world. If you cannot promise this alongside your crusade, then we are done doing business." Ras waited, as Vandal smiled, looking to the other side of the table.

"Any other requests?" Manta spoke up first, also standing to make his presence known. The machinery that powered his suit whirred and hummed with his every movement.

"The one they call Aquaman took my father from me, and in response I would see everything precious to the King of Atlantis perish. His home, his country, and most importantly his loved ones. If you can promise me my vengeance, I will follow you."

"An admirable goal. And you?" Deathstroke remained seated, now leaning back in his chair. He couldn't have been bothered to care.

"Honestly, so long as the checks keep coming through, I don't care what it is we do. Overthrowing governments, cleaning up the streets, hell even killing supers is all stuff I've done before. Just throw on some hazard pay. And I don't really care what the mission is, it'll get done." Vandal turned to face the room as a whole, arms outstretched.

"Then gentlemen, we have an arrangement. I will do everything in my power to accomplish your goals, provided you work with me to accomplish mine."

"Which is?" Ras impatiently inquired. Vandal clicked another button for the holo, exposing an image they could all recognize. The insignia for the Advanced Research Group Uniting Superhumans, otherwise known as ARGUS.

"It's simple really. We're going to war."

Many hours later, Vandal had concluded the meeting with the Legion's inner circle, patiently awaiting the next phase of their plan. In the meantime he made his way down to the lower underground levels of their base. While not a new construction site, it had been one he'd managed to pick up for quite the steal.

Right on schedule, two of Savage's lesser allies was prepped for his arrival, a large capsule prison resting behind them. It had been a fortune, but also been taken from an unaware owner.

"Open it, I want to speak with him." The two strongmen did as they were told, and after inputting a few codes, the capsule separated down the middle, and with it expanded the prison within. Locked in place by his now unarmored limbs was the beaten body of Lex Luthor. His bruised head managed to raise itself through what must've been a blinding amount of light compared to the darkness within the cell.

"I did tell you, Luthor. Betraying me is a crime that cannot go unpunished." The bald man spit blood back at Savage's words.

"You're as good as dead. Trapping me in my own containment cell, it's only a matter of time." Vandal chuckled at the poor man's bravado.

"While I admire your spirit, you clearly overestimate your intelligence. You're trapped in here with my Legion. We're going to change the world Lex, and I'm giving you this final opportunity to join us. Come now, I know our beliefs are not so different you want what's best for humanity's growth same as I do. Why won't you help us?" Luthor grinned a bloody toothy grin.

"Didn't you hear? I'm reformed." Vandal gave out a deep sigh, genuinely disappointed.

"Suit yourself." He began to turn, but stopped halfway. "Oh, that just reminded me. We have your suit, Nigma's been looking at it quite thoroughly and what we've already found...Come now Luthor, did you really think you could hide Mother Box technology? The same devices Darkseid used to boom tube his minions to Earth not so long ago. That was just before you created your new suit and became so buddy buddy with the Man of Steel himself. Did he ever know that you were using tech from his greatest enemy? Did you ever think to tell him you were using one of the deadliest objects in the cosmos to power your own project." Lex was frothing with rage. "I'm sure the Legion will find a much better use for such an object." He gave a nod to Metallo, and heard as the capsule doors behind him slowly began to drift closer together.

"I'll kill you, Savage!"

"No," he responded just the doors sealed shut. "You won't."


	39. Chapter 38

Chapter Thirty Eight

"How can we really expect to call these vigilantes 'heroes' anymore?"

"Without the Justice League, do these sidekicks think they can play judge,jury and executioner all of a sudden?"  
"I think it's safe to say that none of these people were good role models to begin with? Just look at some of their track records-"

"I can't look my children in the face anymore. My son came home the other day and said he wanted to be just like that Red Hood vigilante. Am I supposed to teach him that killing is okay now?"

"Is anyone taking into account how dangerous that Bane character was? How many lives had he already taken before he was put down?"

"Whose call is it to say how many lives a villain is worth, I mean he was still human, wasn't he?"

"This just further illustrates how Gotham's gun control laws are completely inappropriate. How many more crises need to happen before-"

"If it were up to me I'd be deputizing people like that Red Hood. Hell, I'd throw him a fucking parade, mask or no mask he saved me lot of paperwork."

"Is this just going to be the new standard now that Superman and Wonder Woman aren't around to maintain order? And where did they go?"

"I'm telling you, there's something the Titans aren't telling us."

"This would never have happened if Batman were still alive."

"It's noise, an outcry of the people. Thousands of questions, stirring and spinning. Millions of answers, but none of them complete. No one knows the full truth, not anymore. The truth was stolen you see, taken from this world by forces unseen. Who would take these answers? Who would intentionally strip us all of our unwavering insight?" He was struck him again, but he continued none the less. "Now that...That is the Question."

Waller watched the interrogation from behind several panes of bullet proof glass, waiting for this delusional madman to come clean. So far, all he'd responded with was obscure history facts and useless trivia. He'd been here for almost an entire day now, but Waller knew he would crack, they always did.

There was a knock on the door behind her.

"Enter."

"My report ma'am."

"Leave it." The door did not close. "Is there something else, Colonel?"

"He said anything yet, ma'am?" He had come to her side, and unwelcome guest.

"That's not your concern soldier."

"Cut the crap, Waller. We both know this is our only lead on what happened to the League. If he cracks, I need to be there."

"Oh? Did I miss when your sudden promotion?"

"You know if I was in that room, he'd be-"

"You're dismissed, Colonel. Another word and you'll be put on leave, effective immediately." Flag was silenced, but noticeably agitated. He was twitching, and smelled of sweat. He left the room without a salute, slamming the door behind him. Waller shook her head, but patched into the interrogation once again.

"It's a very simple question, what happened to the Justice League?"

"The Moon landing was faked at Hollywood boulevard to win the space race."

"Talk!" There was a brief flash of light as the interrogator jolted The Question with a cattle prod.

"Dental fillings contain nanite tracking devices, which can only be disrupted by eating dark chocolate." Another zap.

"Talk!"

"It was a magic bullet that killed Kennedy, but the shooter was actually-"

"Talk dammit! The Justice League, now!" There was a commotion near the entrance of the room. Several guards fell the door, as Colonel Flag forced his way through. He was reaching for his firearm.

"What are you-" Flag popped the interrogator, veins straining unnaturally in his neck. Waller slammed the emergency switch before he could get a second shot off. What was he thinking?A blast door fell from just above the Colonel, but he dove through, sealing himself in with a corpse and The Question.

"Colonel, what the hell do you think you're doing?"

"He's responsible, Waller! Can't you see it? He knows! He sees us all!" Waller flipped the PA switch to a security channel.

"Get me Lawton, Now!" Flag was raving mad, pacing back and forth uncontrollably. The wrong phrase would set him off, and they'd be back at square one.

"Flag, you're not thinking clearly-"

"No, Waller you don't see what I see- What I've been shown. All of your experiments and projects are nothing compared to the nightmare that's on its way! The Question-this madman here is the only one who sees what's coming!" Visually delirious, their captive responded.

"It's not madness if I'm right."

"Shut up! Just shut up!"

"You see it too, don't you?"

"Question, don't-"

"I've got this Waller. Tell me **Colonel** , when did you first open your eyes to the truth?" Flag was physically shaking, holding both hands to his head. He was stressed, and if Waller's suspicions were correct he might not have even been aware of what he was doing.

"I-I-" The whole chamber rang out, a spider crack suddenly appearing on the glass in front of Waller. The Colonel's body fell to the floor, a pool of blood spreading beneath him. Another voice came out over the comms.

"Target neutralized, Waller."

"Damn it, Deadshot! We were getting somewhere."

"If that were true, you wouldn't have called me out of my cell." A laser pointer hovered over the glass, and Amanda traced it back to a air vent across the room, behind the slab Question was strapped to.

"What a mess…" She could see The Question waving his head back and forth, trying to get her attention after being muted. "Yes, what is it?"

"That was an impressive act, Miss Waller, very clever."

"I don't follow."

"Killing one of your own men to convince me of your pure intentions. It would have been genius if not for one simple mistake. I know how valuable Colonel Flag was to your operation here at ARGUS. There's no way you would have killed him off so unceremoniously. He's not prone to emotional breakdowns, this is far too unlike what his personal file suggests that I'm afraid your charade was a failure."

"A good deduction, but you've missed something."

"Which would be?"

"I don't roll over when my operatives get killed. Those deaths were very real, and yours was staring you in the face." He cocked his head to one side.

"Not an act? Hmmm, perhaps I misjudged you, but you would be foolish to think I'd still all of a sudden trust you."

"I think a few days in isolation will do the trick." Before he could respond, she muted him and surrendered her composure. A heavy sigh relaxed her shoulders as a hand came over her eyes. What the hell just happened? Why had Flag been so reckless, and downright suicidal?

"Ma'am?" Two guards burst through the door, ARGUS security, late as always.

"The situation is taken care of, gentlemen."

"It's not that ma'am. It's the Enchantress. She's escaped."


End file.
